


My Sunshine

by justabean



Category: Free!
Genre: College AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, no love triangles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-01 06:29:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2763122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justabean/pseuds/justabean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An accident doesn’t have to be dramatic to ruin a life or two. When his eyes opened in an unfamiliar hospital room, a woman at his side in some colorful clothes, he wonders why the only thing he can remember is a warm summer day and a boy named Haru.<br/>(Memory!Loss fic. SouMako. Takes place in a college timeline.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> H-Hello! This is my first published work in Free!, but not my first time writing for Makoto or Sousuke. This fanfic will contain mature themes as it progresses. Updates should come regularly, and you can check for any delays on my Tumblr (which the username is the same as my name here!)!!
> 
> I hope you enjoy my fanfic and the way I've chosen to write the characters, It's a lot of fun for me and I'm excited to have all the planned things take life! Also this will not be a MakoHaru fic (no disrespect to the pairing of course), but Haru is a very important part.
> 
> If you want to tag this fic with anything, "My Sunshine (Free!)" would probably be best. Don't post spoilers . . ! See you next time!

The sound of the cicadas was loud in his ears. His hands were sticky with the juice of the watermelon his Mother had cut up for him, and his toes were bare as they swung over the steps. He could still taste the last bite of fruit and wanted more, but he had promised to save room for dinner -- though he couldn’t remember what they were having.

The day was warm, but not a sticky uncomfortable hot that made you want to lay in bed all day. If he breathed in deeply he could taste the ocean in the back of his throat and that made his belly warm.

There was a boy sitting next to him, idly staring out into the distance with him -- both tired from running together just minutes before, exploring in their own way and marveling at the shallow ponds left in the dips of earth from the rain before. Their toes would touch as he kicked his legs and when a childish big toe brushed against the sole of his foot--he giggles and scrunches up his shoulders before uttering his name--

“ _Haru!_ ”

And that’s it.

That’s the last thing he remembers.

Which is strange, because he was seven years old when that memory took place. He doesn’t know why he knows that, but he knows he was seven years old when that memory took place.

Just like he knows he’s twenty one now and a memory from his childhood should not be the only thing he remembers.

* * *

There was nothing dramatic, nothing heroic and nothing heart thumping about the accident. It was boring. It was standard and it was usual--and above all, it was exactly that. An accident.

But an accident doesn’t have to be dramatic to ruin a life or two.

When his eyes opened in an unfamiliar hospital room, a woman at his side in some colorful clothes, he wonders why the only thing he can remember is a warm summer day and a boy named Haru.


	2. Fluffy Black Coat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any mistakes seeing as I don't have a beta or anyone to look this over before posting! I re-read it twice but sometimes simple mistakes slip by. I hope you enjoy this chapter, I'll see you next time!

“-- _Tachibana-san_? Tachibana-san, if you can hear me would you please squeeze my fingers?”

The voice was soft and warm and reminds him of a Mother. Groggily he complied with her request, squeezing the fingers before realizing his eyes were open and looking over at her. The smile on the woman’s face was as kind as her voice and touch as she slipped her hand from his grip and wrote down something on a clipboard. Her hair was a light golden brown color with strands of grey throughout it. She had pretty black eyes. Makoto wasn’t sure why he was trying to take notice and find something familiar in her.

Slow eyes watched the movement of the pen in her hand before her attention was brought back to him, the smile reaching her eyes as she reached that hand back out and rubbed his shoulder.

“You seem more responsive today, that’s good. Do you remember being awake?” she asked, seemingly trying to be casual about what she was saying but he could tell there was a type of worry -- wanting to be sure? He didn’t know what the other feeling was. Checking up. Maybe that was it.

Shaking his head slowly, he opened his mouth and wetted dry lips with his tongue. There was a feeling in his throat -- like he needed something. And the kind woman seemed to know exactly what it was, because the next moment her clipboard was sat on the table next to his bed and a small plastic spoon full of ice chips was being prompted against his lips. Mouth opened, he accepted them in -- a low moan of pleasure leaving him as the cold wet feeling of the ice flooded his senses and dripped down his throat.

Thirsty.

That was the feeling, he was thirsty. Why hadn’t he _remembered_ that?

Doing his best to suckle on the ice and not chomp it down -- it was cold when it touched his teeth -- he found it melting too quickly in his mouth, a sad look crossing his face that was mixed with worry.

“Don’t worry, there’s more,” the woman said, and soon the spoon was brought back to his lips. He accepted it greedily time and time again before he finally felt his thirst was sated for the moment and he could speak.

“Thank you,” he said, surprised at how rough his voice was -- and also at what ease his words had left him. Noticing his surprise the woman giggled and placed the cup back down on the table next to her clipboard.

“How are you feeling, Tachibana-san?” she asked, reaching behind her and tugging a chair up to the side of his bed from where it had been placed to the side. There was a coat slung over the back of it, it’s material black with a fluffy hood and it looked very warm. He wondered who it belonged to. Was it his?

“My . . head,” he mumbled. “Feels foggy . . “

“That’s to be expected, this is the most lucid you’ve been. I’m just happy to see you speaking clear sentences now,” Her hands were smoothing over the fabric of his bed and he watched how she moved -- feeling hit with that notion of a mother like air to her actions. He opened his mouth to ask a question before a more pressing one was suddenly tugging at the back of his foggy mind.

“Tachibana . . “ his voice whispered as eyebrows knitted together. The woman next to him paused and nodded her head, prompting him to continue on. “Is . . Is that me?”

The calm smile on her face never faulted and he had a feeling she was expecting that type of thing to leave his mouth. What had he said before while he was awake? Awake . . had he been sleeping?

“Tachibana Makoto,” she supplied for him, reaching up to run one of her hands over the top of his. Her hands were very soft. He liked the sensation, the warm feeling in his chest never leaving. “Your name is Makoto.”

“Makoto . . “ he repeated once more, blinking slowly before there was a sudden stinging at his eyes. Makoto. His name was Makoto and -- “Wh-Why can’t I . . “

There was something building in his chest. Something fast and hard and quick and it was making it tighter to breath. He became aware that there was a steady beeping in the room and it’s pace was growing faster and louder the more that feeling mounted.

“Makoto,” she said, calling him by what he assumed was his first name -- he knew how names worked? -- and gripping his hand once more. “Makoto, I’m going to need you to breathe. That’s it, just like that. In and out, slowly. Watch my face, just focus on breathing.”

Her mother like voice was so calming to him that when he felt the tears drip down his cheeks and stared at her with a lost expression, he found himself asking a surprising question.

“A-Are you my Mother?” his rough and scratchy voice cracked down the middle as a look of pity crossed her face. He didn’t like that look. She looked sad. When she shook her head he felt disappointed. Not just because someone like her wasn’t his Mother, but because -- Who was . . ?

“No,” she supplied after a moment. The beeping was calming down and he felt her pull her hand away from him to fiddle with something to his side. Turning his head he could see a bag on a metal pole with some type of liquid inside. “I’m your Nurse. You’re in the hospital.”

The hospital. Lost eyes stared at her as he took in his surroundings. Hospital. He knew what that was -- he thought. That’s where you went when you were sick, right? Was he sick? Was that why he didn’t know his name, his Mother, or what that thing she was messing with was called . . ?

“Am -- Am I sick?” he found the words of his thoughts leaving his lips before he could catch them, a flushed look of shame covering his face. Her hand was back on his in a moment, rubbing soothing circles against the top of his hand.

“You’ve been in an accident,” she supplied softly. “The Doctor will tell you the full details when he comes in to properly check up on you. Tachibana-san, you’ve been in a coma for six months. Do you know what a coma is?”

She seemed to be catching on that there was a lot he could not remember. He shook his head like a child, and she nodded -- and like the memory issues he was having, looked like she wasn’t expecting a different answer.

“You’ve been in a sleep like state. For a very long time,” she started, and he could tell she was using simple words with him. Makoto didn’t realize he was still crying, silently as warm tears traced down his cheeks.

He didn’t know who he was, he didn’t know who his Mother was -- or his family for that matter -- and apparently he had been asleep for a very long time. At that moment, Makoto felt like he wanted to simply go back to sleep and wake up from this dream.

* * *

 When the Doctor came in to check up on him, and wake him from the small nap he took in the mean time -- he asked him many questions. The nice woman, whose name he had not gotten, was not with him. He was asked questions he couldn’t answer. His name, though he got that one from the Nurse. His age, apparently he was twenty one. His Birthday, his Hometown, his Mother’s name. When they asked for the name’s of his younger brother and sister the tears broke down his cheeks once more, not even had known he had such things.

Makoto couldn’t remember anything. Which was a lie in itself, because he could remember some things. He could remember what certain things were called -- though some words were lost on him, and he could remember how to speak. How to breath. How to hold the spoon that was given to him with dinner. He could remember basic human functions, which he was grateful for -- but . .

He could not remember where he went to highschool. He could not remember what he did last summer, who he spent Christmas with, what color his Father’s eyes were. He didn’t even know what he looked like until he voiced it and a nurse brought in a small round hand mirror for him to gaze at.

Shaking hands had gripped it’s stark white handle as he brought it up to catch a glimpse of his face and -- oh. Light brown hair that was short and fell around his ears greeted him. Bright, vibrant green eyes -- Oh. This was what he looked like. His cheeks flushed a little bit as he looked away from the mirror. There was that feeling again. Shame was building up in his chest, shame was coming tightly up to cover his throat and bring him in and closing down.

He didn’t know what he looked like.

Makoto felt he had done more than his fair share of crying, but as the tears dripped down his cheeks once more he felt actual sobs ringing through him this time. Arms coming around his body, he held onto himself tightly as his chin tucked down into his chest. His body shook and there was a comforting hand he remembered on his back -- the nurse, the nice mother like one, had come back for him. She rubbed his back through his hospital gown.

The coat on the back of the chair had disappeared sometime during his nap.

* * *

After his first lucid day, Makoto started staying awake longer. He didn’t sleep well that night, and when his worried voice asked if anyone was going to come and visit him and if he had any family -- Miko-san had smiled and said they were on their way as soon as the Hospital contacted them.

Miko, that was the kind nurses name.

She had told him that he even had some very worried friends coming to see him. Makoto had kept his mouth shut, but he wondered if Haru was coming. Haru -- Haru had been the only name and face he could remember. It had taken some prompting of his own, desperate to find something -- but he had found it. A small memory of his childhood, good feelings surrounding it, with the face of a boy with neat black hair. He had wanted to ask Miko-san if she knew him, but he was so afraid that he had made him up in an attempt to remember something that he caught his words.

It was lonely. Sitting in the Hospital room. He hadn’t been there too long alone -- Miko-san had a job to do after all -- but he felt lonely. He knew his family was coming to see him, but that just made him feel more alienated. More alone. He did not know their faces, their names, their anything. He didn’t know what to expect and the thought of friends he had bonds with but could not remember coming to see him as well simply filled his chest with anxiety.

Apart of him wanted to push them away and tell them not to come, to leave him alone. But that part was simply afraid, afraid of seeing the sad pity in their eyes when he looked at them lost and confused.

He had realized a few things while he sat alone in his Hospital room. The main one being that it was silly that a man of twenty one years old could not read.

He had tried to read Miko-san’s name tag after she told him what her name was, but the symbols on the piece of plastic escaped him. She had told him that some loss of functions like that were common and he was lucky that he could speak properly, but it had done nothing to calm his worries.

Makoto felt like he was falling apart.

He felt like every bit of him that he didn’t know was never coming back. He was a white canvas in a dark room, but there was a faint discoloration underneath the blank cover -- showing that something had once been there, but was covered. But no matter how hard he tried to chip away the covering to see what was underneath, all he got was more white.

Breathing in, he wished he could sleep. He had enough of sleeping -- sixth month’s worth -- but he was so very lonely. So lonely, so afraid and so scared. He wanted something familiar. He wanted something familiar, something he knew -- he was desperate for it. The need for this boy named Haru was heavy in his chest and he could feel the panic rising in his chest once more. He bit it down, but it was there. Nipping at his chest, biting behind his eyes -- drawing him in . .

When suddenly there was a knock at his door. Makoto didn’t know what time it was, the clock on the wall as strange to him as Miko-san’s name tag, but he knew it was late by the darkness wafting in through his windows. The light in his room was still on, and the slow steady background noise of the television that had been left on was the only thing to his ears before the soft noise of knuckles on wood.

“C-Come in?” he called out, wondering if he should give permission. Perhaps it was Miko-san, she had told him she would bring him a nice ice pop later on, if he was still awake, before she went home for the day. Grasping onto the thought of it being something familiar, all hope was shot out the window when a man walked in.

A stranger.

Makoto did recognize something about him. Around his shoulders and covering his upper body was the black coat with the fluffy collar that he had seen on the back of Miko-san’s chair. But that was all that was familiar to him. The man stayed silent as he stared at him, and Makoto took that moment to take in his features.

His hair was black. His eyes were teal. They stood out against the contrast of his hair and reminded Makoto of jewels he couldn’t remember the names of. His eyes looked deep set and slightly droopy and his eyebrows were thick, but not in an unappealing way. His nose was straight and his jaw was sharp and masculine and it brought a feeling in his belly he couldn’t describe.

During the time he looked him over, the man said nothing. His teal eyes simply stared at him with an expression that-- he did not know. He didn’t understand, he couldn’t understand. But it frightened him and when their eyes met, he broke contact and looked back down.

“C . . Can I help you?” he asked, his voice sounding far too scared to his own ears. This man was big. Big, tall and broad. Makoto wondered if he was a friend . . ?

There was no answer with words to his question. Just the sound of boots moving across the Hospital floor, before he was suddenly sitting in the chair next to the bed. That warm looking coat was shrugged off his shoulders as he leaned back, elbow on the armrest and chin in his palm. He seemed to be looking anywhere but at Makoto now, which was strange because he had just been -- well -- staring at him! Makoto didn’t know where else to look, which was why his eyes laid on the man.

He looked -- stressed. Makoto knew that much. The way he was sitting looked like it was trying to be casual, but his knuckles of the hand not supporting his head were white as they gripped his pant leg.

The silence was worse than being alone and Makoto looked away from him for a moment, before staring down at his own lap -- covered by a blanket still.

“You can’t remember anything, huh?” the man’s voice suddenly made itself known. Makoto felt his chest tighten -- it was deep. It was deep and, he hadn’t been expecting him to speak!

“Yes, that’s right,” he whispered, his eyebrows knitting together once more as he bit his lip. He was nervous.

“Mm.”

Makoto wondered if they were friends. Wouldn’t a friend -- speak to you? Hold his hand like Miko-san had, hug him, tell him who they were? This man had said so few words to him and was just . . sitting there.

“Do I know you . . ?” Makoto’s voice wavered. It was such a strange thing to ask. Do I know you. He should know if he knew him or not, but they . . he couldn’t remember. It was so hard, everything was so fuzzy and he could not remember.

There was silence again, and he wondered if he would even answer.

“Yeah.”

“What’s your name?”

“Sousuke.” There was silence after he spoke and when Makoto looked back to him, there was longing in his eyes. Like he was begging him without trying to, without meaning to. Begging him to remember, for that name to take some kind of recognition in his head and for him suddenly . . know.

But he didn’t.

That name was as familiar to him as Miko-san’s.

“ . . I suppose it’d be wrong to say nice to meet you?” he laughed awkwardly, hand coming up to play with the collar of his gown. Sousuke’s eyes were drawn away from him once more to glare at the other side of the room. He said nothing and Makoto was starting to expect that.

“Can--Uhm,” Nervous from the lack of communication but wanting to ask questions, he stuttered over himself. Sousuke’s eyes moved back to look at him, though his head stayed facing away. “Can I ask you . . some things?”

“Sure.”

“What’s our relationship?” The most pressing question on his mind. Where they friends, relatives . . ?

Makoto thought it was an easy question to answer, but when he saw Sousuke’s face contort and him look away with his eyes once more his stomach dropped. He shouldn’t have asked, how could he have thought that was an easy question?

“I’m sorry--” he broke out. “You don’t have to, I’m sorry that’s so weird--”

But Sousuke cut him off.

“Roommates,” he said simply. “We live together. Have lived together for a year before your accident.”

“Oh.”

Makoto blinked slowly and got a good look at him. This was his roommate? This -- tall and broad man who didn’t speak unless prompted, and even then was short with words? That was surprising. He stared at him before nodding and playing with the fabric.

“ . . Are we close?” he asked softly. He almost asked if they were close.

“ . . Yeah.”

What happened next he couldn’t explain. It had been a word. One simple word, A simple yes, they were close. They were roommates and they were close. They were close, and nothing about him was familiar. Tears broke to his eyes and he couldn’t help it.

They were falling down his cheeks -- warm, wet and hot before he knew it. Dripping fast and heavy, silent for a moment before a sob broke through him. His hand came up to grip the fabric over his chest, and he could see Sousuke’s head snap to the side at the noise. Going by how stoic and silent he had been -- when Sousuke was suddenly next to him, wrapping his arms around him and being careful of the wires and IV he was hooked up to . . he was shocked. Broad strong arms circled around him, one hand coming up to lift his chin to look at him. His eyes were worried, searching for what was causing the tears and as Makoto’s face crumpled he hoped the other man realized there was no physical pain causing this.

His chin was released and he was pulled snug against his chest. His strong chest. His strong chest and his strong arms wrapped around him, and that was all he could focus on besides the panic in his head. He was strong, and it made him feel safe. He didn’t know this man from adam but he felt some kind of comfort in this stranger holding him. This stranger that he lived with, that he was close to --

Makoto’s hands pulled away from his own chest to grip desperately at Sousuke’s shirt. He pressed his face into his neck as a broad hand held the back of his head keeping him there. He felt a nose pressed into his hair, and could feel a slight tremor leaving the black haired man. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but he was still crying. He was still shaking, arms trembling as his body shook and sobs left him.

Weak fingers that hadn’t known strength for months gripped the dark grey shirt under his hands like it was a life line. He sobbed. He sobbed and shook, and not once did Sousuke falter. He simply held him. He asked no questions, he demanded no answers -- just held on and let him have that moment of weakness, let him let it out properly. Let him mourn for the life he couldn’t remember.

And when the tears slowed down to a simple steady trickle down flushed and raw cheeks, his body trembling as he sucked in breaths through a wet mouth and runny nose -- Sousuke rubbed his back.

“I-I don’t know who I am,” Makoto whispered in a cracking and wet voice. Sousuke nodded against his hair and held him a fraction tighter.

“I know.”

“I don’t know wh-who you are.”

“I know.”

The nose in his hair pressed tighter till a cheek was resting against his crown. He flexed his fingers a little bit. They felt stiff from holding on so tightly for so long. He sniffled wetly. His eyes were tired and as he sat there in Sousuke’s arms, he could feel the sleep starting to take him. He was sleeping so much, so much. But he was so tired.

He was barely awake when the other man detangled himself. He felt his back laid against the mattress once more, his pillow adjusted and the blanket drawn up against his chest. Eyes closed, he felt a hand wipe some tears away from his cheeks. Makoto wasn’t sure what it was, but he felt something soft and warm brush against his forehead.

Had he been more awake, he might have called that a kiss.

* * *

When he woke the next morning alone, he knew that day was going to be strange.

It was the day his family was coming to see him, and he wasn’t sure what to do about that. Right now the only names in his life he knew were Miko-san, Sousuke and the phantom Haru he wasn’t sure he made up or not. He ate breakfast slowly, went over some more checks with his Doctor, and Miko-san came with another man he did not know. They talked about rehabilitation and how tomorrow he would start walking.

They told him how the accident that caused his coma had been one involving a car. Apparently he had been crossing the street in the crosswalk with a bag full of groceries when a driver under the influence sped past and hit him dead on. Makoto learned of the fractures and breaks his body suffered and how he was lucky he woke up from his coma at all. How they had faith he’d walk properly once more since he had pain in his lower half and just needed to get use to it once more after sleeping for so long.

He kept hearing that he was lucky.

Makoto didn’t feel lucky.

And when his family arrived with open arms, tears and kisses he felt afraid. When two children climbed on his lap, tears spilling down their cheeks and he had to ask their names -- he saw the heartbreak in their eyes. Up till now he had no prompt of memory, not wanting to count Haru as a memory just yet. Watching their eyes fill up more glossy and the sobs leave the boy -- something clicked in his head.

Before they had a chance to tell him their names, his arms came around them and tugged them against his chest. Tears laced his own eyes but did not spill over. And without thinking of anything at all, he called their names from memory and told them not to cry.

When he realized what he said -- questions had been asked, and answers had been given.

Remembering something, anything even if it was just Ren and Ran’s names had given them all hope. Till then the Doctors had admitted that they were unsure if any of Makoto’s memory would come back. But with a memory returning to him, there was hope now. And it was obvious for all of them -- even Makoto -- Who held his head a bit higher, and felt some of the anxiety in his chest dispersing.

There was hope, but that didn’t make things perfect.

He still needed to be told his parent’s names, and as they all sat down -- crying children on Makoto’s bed -- Makoto asked them questions about who he was. And they talked. They talked and they talked and he took in every kind word. It was so strange. It was so odd because he spoke to them like they were strangers, and they to him with such familiarity. Even Ran and Ren who’s names he had remembered, he didn’t know them. He had an urge to calm them when they cried and share his jello with them -- but he didn’t know them.

Through his parents Makoto learned that he was a university student. He learned that he was going to school to be a swimming coach and that he was a swimmer! His specialty was the backstroke and he had been swimming since he was a young child with his friends. Makoto wondered if he would still be able to swim -- if he could remember how like he remembered how to eat.

They didn’t stay long. The twins were tired and they had not wanted to overwhelm him. Makoto had noticed that they never mentioned any of his friends by name and wondered if that was the reason. He didn’t pry of press because learning names wasn’t going to help him remember them. Sousuke’s name hadn’t sparked any memory, after all.

Sousuke had came back soon after his family left. He was wearing his fluffy coat again and when he walked in through the door, Makoto had smiled at him and shifted on his bed.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hey.”

He had thought maybe things would have been awkward after the night before. After all, to him, he had just openly wept on a stranger's shoulder. But he kept trying to remind himself that -- he knew this man. He knew this man and they were close. Makoto had even asked his parents if they knew Sousuke and though their faces looked concerned they had nodded and agreed when he asked if he was really his roommate.

They probably wouldn’t lie to him, right?

Today, Sousuke seemed a bit tired. His eyes had bags under them and were rimmed with red, but Makoto chose not to comment on it since he was sure he looked the same. He had no real idea of course, because even though the hand mirror was still sitting next to him on the bed he had chosen not to gaze at the stranger reflected.

“Did you sleep well?” Makoto’s voice carried over to him as he settled back into the bed. Sousuke nodded his head and shrugged out of his warm coat, draping it against the chair and returning to what Makoto was realizing was his usual spot.

“Yeah.” It was an obvious lie.

“Oh. Uhm,” he felt like he needed to continue the conversation. After all, Sousuke was taking his time to come over and see him. “I, well. I remembered something today.”

He had said it as casually as he could, but the way Sousuke’s eyes widened and his hand became a death grip on the armrest of the chair shocked him. Apparently it shocked the dark haired man as well because he soon loosened his grip and looked away in a way he hoped to be casual.

“What was it?” he asked, voice tight and holding that emotion that Makoto couldn’t explain.

“My brother and sister’s names. I know, it’s . . it’s silly. It’s just names but -- I remembered! The Doctors even said that there’s a hope that more of my memories will start returning now!” Makoto found himself exclaiming with a bright smile on his face. Sousuke watched him, eyebrows slowly knitting together in disappointment.

“Oh.”

And with that word, the smile slowly slipped from Makoto’s face. He bit his lip and glanced down. It hadn’t killed the hope he had, but it had . . put a damper on his happiness. Which he needed right now. Chewing his lip, he swallowed hard and felt he needed to -- to speak his mind. Because if he didn’t speak, he wouldn’t learn anything.

“Are we really close?” he asked, and noticed how Sousuke’s head twitched.

“What do you mean?” Sousuke’s eyebrows were knitted in confusion this time instead of disappointment, looking like he forgot Makoto didn’t know his name until yesterday.

“It’s just -- You don’t seem to like me very much! You come and visit me and, you held me but you don’t . . speak to me. It’s -- It’s weird. I’m sorry, I -- I shouldn’t be ungrateful but it’s just . . “ he was getting nervous again, eyes shutting as his face scrunched up and he played with his fingers.

Sousuke fell silent. The silence flooded the room and Makoto felt like he had said all the wrong things again. But then Sousuke was standing and dragging the chair he was sitting in closer to the bed before sitting back down. Suddenly he was leaning on the bed with his elbows and glancing down at the white color of the blankets, making Makoto's eyes open.

“ . . I sat here. For a week. After your accident. I didn’t go to school, I just sat here and watched you. You looked horrible,” his voice was soft but not gentle. It was hard and tight and his eyes were closed. “Fucking horrible. Bruised and battered and broken . . and I sat here. I sat here and I held your fucking hand wishing for you to wake up because you -- you’re the type of guy who looks better smiling than he does like that. You don’t fucking deserve to look like that.”

He was saying more words than Makoto expected him to be capable of, and his chest was tightening.

“And when the second week came and you didn’t move and when they kept saying you were in a coma . . “ His voice cracked at that last word. Makoto reached down to touch one of the hands resting on the bed and suddenly it was wrapped in the grip of Sousuke’s broad fingers. “I came back. Every god damn day. I sat here for at least four hours every day -- even when they said you might never wake up . . and I begged you to open your eyes.”

Tears were forming in Makoto’s eyes but he wasn’t sure if they would spill this time. The droplets that were gathering in the corner of Sousuke’s closed teal ones did not escape him.

“Sous--”

“I begged you to open your eyes and one day you did,” there was a choked off humourless laugh as his eyes opened. “You opened your damn eyes and I screamed for the nurse and -- . . Then you didn’t know who I was. You weren’t, shit, you weren’t _awake_ but you looked at me like I was an alien.”

“It’s oka--”

“It’s not okay!” he suddenly yelled at him, his head snapping up with his jaw gritted together and pain in his eyes. His grip grew painful. “It’s not fucking okay! Because I left, I walked right out of the room! You’re my f--friend, you’re my friend and I fucking left you here with strangers! And then you properly woke up and I didn’t want to see you because I didn’t want you to ask me my damn name and--”

Sousuke’s voice died down as a pained noise left him. There was a tightness ever present in his chest as he watched him and listened to him. He watched a tear drip down his face before one hand pulled away from Makoto’s to wipe it away. Sousuke was grinding his teeth together and glaring off to the side with glossy eyes.

“We’re close, okay?” he said, with venom in his voice. “This is just -- hard. I don’t know how to talk to you because you don’t know who I am.”

It was Makoto’s turn to be silent now. Sousuke's hand came back to his. Staring at him he opened his mouth for a second before looking back down at their hands.

“It’s hard for me too,” he whispered, gripping the tight grip on his hand back. “It’s so hard knowing that -- that I’ve lived with you. I -- I met with people today that gave birth to me, nursed me, took care of me while I was sick and -- and they were strangers.”

“ . . . “

“They were strangers to me and -- that’s so painful,” the last word broke as he shook his head and breathed in through his nose. “It hurts so much. It feels -- It feels like there’s this . . big tight feeling in my chest. A lump -- A lump that won’t go away! B-Because I don’t . . I don’t know anyone.” Makoto’s voice grew quiet. “I’m all alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Sousuke gripped his hand tighter, frowning. “You’re not.”

“You--You can say that,” his nose felt runny again and he was about to break. “But I don’t know--”

“I don’t give a damn if you know or not,” Sousuke was standing up and kneeling on his bed now. He was holding Makoto’s hand tightly between both of his and staring at him with such emotion that Makoto wondered how he doubted that they were close. “I made a promise -- You, I don’t expect you to know that, damnit, but I did. I made a promise to you before this that -- I wouldn’t leave you alone. And just because you don’t know I said that doesn’t mean I’m going to break it.”

There was such conviction in his voice, such ferocity in how he spoke that Makoto’s chest felt -- tighter. But not in the same way as earlier. Now the tightness was comforting. It felt like his heart had grown three sizes and there wasn’t enough space for everything he was feeling. His cheeks flushed as he stared at him, mouth breaking into a wibbling lip as he swallowed hard. A few tears dripped down his cheeks and he wondered when he’d be able to have a conversation without crying.

“You’re a really good friend, aren’t you, Sousuke?” he asked in a quiet, childlike voice. Something flickered across Sousuke’s face as he nodded and let go of his hands. He wrapped his strong arms around him again and nodded once more as he pressed his face into his hair. No words left him, but Makoto could feel what he was trying to get across.

And that was all he needed right now.


	3. Haru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kind comments, they really mean a lot to me! I'm not sure when the next Chapter will be out, but it shouldn't be too long. Again, I apologize for any spelling mistakes. I'll see you next time!

Sousuke _was_ a good friend. He had no proper idea who he was, but as he held him in his arms and let Makoto fall asleep with a comforting warmth near him -- he knew that he was a good friend.

The next day proved to be a bit easier than his first lucid ones. As promised, an attempt at walking was made. Everyone was pleased when he knew how to pull his legs over the edge of the bed, and with two nurses holding his arms to keep him up -- he attempted his first step in six months. No one expected him to be able to hold his own, hence the support, but as he made a movement to show that he knew how to do it, hope was once again pressed down on them. He stumbled and almost fell but when the Doctor told him that was good, he was pleased. A wheelchair was awarded to him for his efforts and talk of proper physical therapy was discussed.

Physically, asides from the fact he had been in a coma for six months with brain injury, there was nothing terribly wrong with him. He had truly lucked out in more ways than he originally thought.

He knew how to walk, though it would take time to properly do so once again, and he knew how to speak. He could be without either of those. While he longed for the ability to remember above all things, he was blessed.

Sousuke came to visit him just as he had the past few days. Late towards the night, black warm looking coat around his shoulders. They talked about Makoto’s attempt at walking and how it was discovered that he couldn’t write either. Miko-san had given him a small piece of paper with a pencil and just like before he didn’t know how to form any characters. It was expected and no one was surprise, _he couldn’t read them after all how could he write them?_ , but it was still a bit of a blow. Sousuke had just held his hand and said he could learn. If babies could do it, so could Makoto.

That made him smile and their talk soon turned to things Makoto was curious about.

“Do you go to a university too?” he asked as he looked down at their hands. Makoto wondered if it was so common for a friend to hold and touch you as much as Sousuke did, but he also had a feeling that he didn’t mind it. It didn’t feel odd of forgien and while he had no memory, he trusted his senses to know what was right and what was wrong. He must have been affectionate with his friends before.

“Mm. We go to the same one,” Sousuke had replied as he glanced at the food tray before Makoto. Most of the scrappy dinner was gone and the dark haired man was wrinkling his face up at what was left.

“Do you do good in school?”

“Alright. We use to help each other a lot.”

“Ah! Was I smart?” Makoto couldn’t help but giggle a bit because, it had been a few days but the pure silly factor of talking about himself like this was not lost on him yet.

“You complained a lot, but you got it done. Yeah. You’re pretty smart,” There was a small lift to the corner of Sousuke’s mouth as he said that. Makoto spoke about himself in the past tense whereas Sousuke did so as if he was still the same man. He wasn’t sure if that comforted him or not.

“You’re still going to school though, right? How are your studies?” His mind was gone but he was asking his new found friend about his school work. Sousuke’s small smile turned into a bigger grin as he rubbed his face with the hand not connected to Makoto’s.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m still going. They’re fine, you would have never let me hear the end of it if I slacked off,” There was a fondness in his eyes that hurt. Because Makoto didn’t know that. His eyes drifted away as a sad smile crossed his face. He wasn’t sure if Sousuke noticed or not, but he gave a squeeze to their hands as Makoto moved the overhang table away from his bed and sat back.

It was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to school,” he admitted. Sousuke shifted. “I can’t read or write. I can’t remember anything, but I’m pretty sure that’s required for learning.”

“You’ll learn,” and just like everything there was no doubt in Sousuke’s voice. “To read. And write again. Even if none of it comes back, you’ll learn again. So knock it off.”

He simply nodded his head and their talk was idle until his eyes closed. For some reason, Sousuke was always there until he fell asleep.

 

Makoto had been told of friends coming to see him. He had actually expected them to be stoic and silent like Sousuke had been, but when a blonde haired boy burst into his room with happiness in his eyes and words leaving his mouth a mile a minute he soon learned that he had quite a colorful amount of friends. A blue haired boy followed by a girl with pretty crimson hair soon followed after and he learned their names.

Rei.

Nagisa.

Kou. O-Or was it Gou?

They were fun! It wasn’t like with Sousuke where he was unsure by his demeanor, every bit of them welcomed him in and exclaimed nothing but happiness off their attitudes. They told him about themselves, and little bits of things about himself as well. Makoto noticed that, like with his parents, the only names they used when referring to people not in the room was their titles. Your friend. Your sister. He wondered at the reason behind it but -- still, he was sure it was because they wanted him to be comfortable and not stress to think of the name with the connection.

And he was grateful for that.

Iwatobi was where they were from, as well as his home town. But they were all off on their own adventures at the moment. Nagisa was going to school -- Makoto couldn’t remember the name of the town but it wasn’t so far that the trip to the Hospital was difficult for him. He was even roommates with Rei. Gou-chan’s school escaped him like her name, and he felt bad for that -- but he remembered other things that they had told him! About school, and how there was another boy on their team back then. They neglected to mention his name, but he figured if he was important he would come visit him, right?

Apparently both he and Gou-chan’s older brother were coming to visit him as soon as they could. They were out of the country for something involving swimming but were already working on getting a flight back when they heard that Makoto had woken up.

To have so many people care for him to such a degree . . even though he didn’t know them, it warmed his heart.  

They came to see him, they stayed by his side. They cried when he didn’t recall them, but they stood strong and told him about themselves.

It was more than he could have hoped for.

When Gou-chan kissed his cheek goodbye and Rei and Nagisa left in tears, he felt warmer than he had the past few days. He even finished all of his food, which he had been struggling to do the past few days. His diet was restricted as he got use to solid food once more, but being able to finish everything was by far a reflection of his company.

They had to go back home but promised to come and visit him again and if he needed anything to call. Makoto had neglected to tell them that he was unable to read and using a phone would be difficult -- especially since he couldn’t read the numbers they had written down and left for him at his bedside table. But if he did need to call, he could always ask someone! Miko-san. Sousuke.

When Sousuke came back that night and the two talked, he told him about what he had done that day and prompted Sousuke to tell him about his. After all, he wanted to know what the dark haired man did in the daytime, since he only seemed to come around more towards the night. He hadn’t suspected that it was classes but that’s exactly what it was. He went to school, to the gym and then came straight here afterwards. Makoto even learned that the two of them use to go to the gym together. That had prompted him to touch his chest and feel his body. He was still uncomfortable looking at his reflection in the mirror -- not knowing the man there bothered him on levels he could not describe -- but he glanced down at his arms as well.

He felt Sousuke’s eyes on him as he mapped out the depleted muscles in his arms from laying on a bed stationary for so many months. Unsure what he looked like at his physical best -- he had not asked Sousuke because he was afraid he’d show him a photograph or something. Makoto knew what that was and -- he didn’t want to see his _face._

“We’ll get you back up to fighting shape,” Sousuke had said. “If that’s what you want.”

Makoto had not known what he wanted and that night he had fallen asleep holding Sousuke’s hand instead of in his arms. It meant he hadn’t cried, but he did miss the strong bands of steel encasing him as he drifted off.

 

There were no important visits the next two days. There was simply a matter of being wheeled down to a physical therapy room and having his walking tested. He learned that he was a tenacious man who didn’t want to lose at something he properly set his mind to, and though it was difficult and painful he was already improving on his walking. He could sit up properly on his own, there was strength returning to his arms, his legs moved like he wanted them too -- even if they were still having trouble holding his weight properly, they were there. They were working. And the sense of gratification was more than he could have asked for.

The only downside to working so hard physically was that when Sousuke came to see him towards the evening, he was exhausted. He was only awake enough for a small talk, a demonstration of strength by gripping his fingers and as Sousuke told him briefly what he went over in class that day -- he had simply drifted off to sleep. There was one thing that Makoto did remember from their talk though -- on the second day of his proper therapy Sousuke had told him that he’d be here earlier the next day with company.

The idea of more people he knew but didn’t know, once again, frightened him. But the idea of Sousuke being there was comforting.

And when he awoke that day he even put proper clothes on. Miko-san had to help him of course and dressed in a pair of slacks and a long sleeved orange and grey shirt, he felt a little bit more like a person. He hadn't known the effect that clothing could have on a persons mental state, but sitting atop the blankets and sheets as he watched the television across the room -- he felt _normal._

“Hey,” was suddenly called from across the room. Makoto turned his head and saw Sousuke standing there at his open door, a small smile on his face and his hands in the pockets of his black warm coat. It was almost a staple to his wardrobe.

“Sousuke,” he smiled back at him. “You really are early!”

“Mm,” was all that was replied and he did not move far away from the door. “You’re wearing clothes today.”

“Ah, yeah! Does it look alright? I wanted to -- well no offense but these hospital clothes are kind of itchy . . “ He pouted and shrugged his back, revealed he wasn’t wearing it anymore. Sousuke simply grinned and nodded his head.

“I’ll bring you more clothes tomorrow then. I wasn’t sure if you had enough strength to change into them. Guess I doubted you.”

“You did!” he smiled, before it faltered a little. “Didn’t you say you were bringing someone today?”

Sousuke nodded his head and lifted one hand up to jerk a thumb behind him. “He’s here. He’s a little nervous for some reason.”

“Why?” Makoto frowned and craned his neck to try and see who was outside. Sadly where his bed sat he had no way of actually seeing into the hallway where the stranger stood.

“He’s afraid he’ll _cry_.”

“Oi, _Sousuke!_ ” There was a voice from outside and a hand came out to jab him in the side. Hissing in pain, Sousuke held his side and glared out the door before he was pushed to the side and the figure walked in. Makoto was giggling a little bit from behind his hand at the jab laid on his Roommate and when the stranger walked in, his face too was lit with laughter.

There was no recognition in this mans appearance, but he was sure everyone in the room know that would happen. He stood tall, but not nearly as tall as Sousuke, and his hair was the same beautiful crimson color as Gou-chan’s had been. This must be her brother. Another thing that took his attention was when the man looked at him and smiled -- he had an _interesting_ mouth on him!

“Hello,” Makoto said, his laughter dying down. “Can I ask that you don’t assault Sousuke again? I rather like having him around.”

The look that crossed the dark haired man’s face was not lost on Makoto. It was one of joy that was quickly hid in a bashful way.

The red haired man was laughing and shaking his head, as he lifted up his hand and pinched Sousuke’s cheek.

“Oi, what’s with Makoto being so fond of you? I thought he couldn’t remember anything,” he said with a raised brow and a smile that dismissed the warning look that crossed Sousuke.

“He visit’s me a lot!” Makoto interjected with a laugh. Though there seemed to be some tension between the two at the moment, he could tell that they were good friends. “But can I ask what your name is? You’re Gou-chan’s brother, right?”

The crimson man faltered a bit but smiled and walked away from the door and towards the bed. He even plopped down in the seat that was usually Sousuke’s, and Makoto could hear Sousuke moving to the other side of the room to drag two of the chairs from near the window. Two? Was someone else coming?

“Rin. How’d you know . . ?”

“Ah. She visited me and told me you’d be coming with a friend,” Makoto supplied, a little sorry look crossing his face. He wondered if Rin thought he remembered and felt bad for giving off that impression. But Rin just smiled and leaned back a bit, looking over his face. There was a way about how he was looking that made him think Sousuke wasn’t lying -- and that he would cry.

“Man. It’s really good to see you again . . “ Rin started out with a sigh as Sousuke sat down, removing his warm coat. “We were still around when the accident happened and I saw you before. You have no idea how relieving it is to see you sitting up and speaking . . “ He even choked up a little at the end and there was a sad shine to Makoto’s eyes.

“Even if I can’t remember you?” The words left the brunettes mouth without meaning to. And that was what broke the red head. Tears sprung into his eyes as he reached out and gripped the sheets of Makoto’s bed.

“Idiot,” he said in a tight voice. “That doens’t matter as long as you’re okay.”

It was amazing how the simple things these people said to him made him feel so revealed. The tears weren’t spilling down Rin’s cheeks but he was sure he was close. A bright look crossed Makoto’s as his eyebrows knitted and he simply nodded and laughed.

“You’re right!” he admitted. He wanted to remember. He wanted to know him, and Sousuke, and Nagisa, and Rei and Gou -- but if he couldn’t, they seemed willing to grow new memories with him.

What had he done to grant him such amazing people in his life . . ?

“Ah,” Makoto said, wiping under his eye with a little bit of a laugh. “Uhm -- You said we. Did you mean you and Sousuke . . ?”

“Eh? No. Oi, you didn’t tell him?” Rin was scrubbing under his eyes as well and looking very much like he was trying to pretend he had not been near tears five seconds earlier.

“No. Gou said you and a friend were coming. We’ve been avoiding names, his Mother was worried it’d confuse him.”

So Makoto had been right on that part then. Sousuke’s face looked a little confused as if he just realized someone was missing.

“Where is he? I thought he was right behind you,” he asked as he shifted in his chair. “He did seem nervous in the car, not that I was paying attention.”

“Well think about it from his view,” Rin mumbled and Makoto felt forgotten as he fumbled to understand. “You know how close they are.”

“Believe me,” there was a dark hint to the way Sousuke spoke. “I understand.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean--”

“I know.”

“Uhm,” Makoto cut in after a second. “W-What are you talking about? I don’t get it!”

A slight dusting of pink crossed both their cheeks as Sousuke looked away and Rin looked back at Makoto.

“We’re talking about--”

And before he had a chance to say the name they were avoiding telling him, there was the soft sound of feet against the tiles of the hospital room. All of their gazes turned away from each other towards it, and Makoto’s breathing stopped. The sound on the heart monitor picked up and the beeping grew louder as, for the first time since he woke up, he laid eyes on someone he _knew._

“ _H-Haru_!” Makoto’s own voice surprised him. Rin and Sousuke’s heads whipped back around to look at him in shock and he saw Haru’s eyes widen a fraction as if he wasn’t expecting that at all. And he shouldn’t have been. Makoto was sure he had been told about the situation and how he didn’t know anyone but --

“Makoto.”

The voice was soft and almost a little afraid and it drew a sob from Makoto’s lips. He reached up and covered his mouth as a look of pure elation filled his features. Haru. Haru was _real_ he hadn’t made him up. Which meant that memory -- _the memory of eating a watermelon and their feet touching_ \-- that memory had been real. It had been _real_ and he remembered.

“Haru--” Makoto opened his arms as if he wanted to touch him and he felt truly frustrated that his legs didn’t do what he wanted him to. He knew if he swung them over the side and made to walk he’d fall like a baby giraffe, but he was so tempted to do so as Haru stared at him. His gaze stayed for only a second before his sneakers were squeaking against the floor of the room.

Suddenly he was in his bed with him. Kneeling before him and wrapping his arms around him and pressing his face into the crook of Makoto’s neck. It was the larger mans turn to be surprised before his arms came around him and held on tightly. Tears were dripping down his cheeks and Haru was all he could pay attention to. He didn’t know what Rin was doing, and he didn’t know what Sousuke looked like.

All he knew was Haru was in his arms and trembling.

“It’s okay,” he found himself whispering and felt the other stiffen in his arms. “It’s okay, Haru-chan, it’s alright. Don’t cry . . “

It was just like with Ren and Ran, except instead of simply a name he -- felt like he knew this person. The only memory in his head at the moment was still of that summer day, but holding him like this -- it was like with Sousuke, except a bit different. With Sousuke he knew _he_ was safe in his arms. With Haru, he knew Haru was safe in _his._

“You -- You remember him?”

That drew his attention to Rin who had his eyes glossed over again, looking at Makoto like he’d never seen something like this before. Haru didn’t remove himself from his shoulder and simply fisted his fingers in the back of Makoto’s shirt. Makoto nodded his head before shaking it no and rubbing Haru’s back.

“I--” he tried to think of how to word it with how his voice shook and the slow stream of tears didn’t falter despite telling Haru not to cry. “I remember -- a memory. W-We’re children and, eating watermelon. But I -- I thought I made him up! I didn’t think he was _real_ . . “ His voice broke as he pressed the side of his cheek against Haru’s head.

Makoto spared a glance at Sousuke and was hurt to see what was there. Sousuke was looking at him with nothing but pain and confusion written on his features. Something was nagging at the back of Makoto’s mind when he saw how much this was hurting him -- why would it be hurting him? Shouldn’t he be _happy_ Makoto was remembering? -- but he didn’t know what it was. And before he could open his mouth to ask what was wrong, Haru pulled back.

His eyes were rimmed red as he stared at him, but no tears were streaming down his cheeks like Makoto’s. They were gathered in his eyes and Makoto felt a tug in his chest.

“You lost your memory.” That was all he said, voice wavering slightly as eyebrows knitted together.

“Were you afraid?” Makoto found himself asking, as he searched Haru’s face. There was a slight twitch to his expression as he glanced to the side before looking down. “ . . About me forgetting you?”

There was a slight nod.

Makoto nodded as well before reaching up and rubbing Haru’s hair as the neat haired boy looked back at him.

“I’m sorry. That must have been hard, huh?” he asked in a quiet voice. Haru looked lost and sad, and Makoto didn’t like that expression on him. “We were close, weren’t we? In that memory I was very happy to be with you.”

“We **are** close.” There was no denial in Haru’s voice and it reminded him of Sousuke. He laughed and nodded his head, their faces so close together that with how he chuckled his forehead was jostled against Haru’s nose.

“Haru, get out of Makoto’s bed,” Rin’s voice floated over to them. He was watching them with a smile that looked a little nostalgic and Makoto wondered why. “The Nurse will yell at you when she comes.”

“No she won’t.” Was all Haru had to say as he made no move to -- well -- move. At the idea of Haru moving away, Makoto wrapped his arms tighter around him and pulled him closer.

“She will,” Rin sighed a little bit.

“I don’t care, then.”

“Oi, Haru . . “

“It’s okay!” Makoto cut in once again. Haru stayed where he was, which Makoto now realized was between his legs on his knees. His arms were wrapped loosely around Makoto’s middle, though his fingers were still tangled in his shirt. Makoto’s own arms were linked through his, also around Haru’s middle with his hands firmly against his back at this point. “I don’t mind him being here. It’s nice -- he’s familiar.”

There was the loud noise of chair against the floor as Sousuke suddenly stood up. All eyes turned to him, but his eyes were on the ground.

“I’m going to buy a drink.”

“Oi, get me a cola,” Rin said, frowning at him as he watched him nod. Haru simply glanced over his shoulder to look at him before he leaned forward and rested his chin on Makoto’s. Makoto watched how Sousuke glared at the man in his arms before walking out the door without so much as responding to Rin.

As soon as he was clear of the entry way, Makoto slowly looked over at Rin with a confused look.

“Did . . Did I say something?” he asked. Rin had been staring at where Sousuke was last before looking back at the pair on the bed.

“He doesn’t like me,” Haru said instead.

“That’s . . well, he’s been getting better about that,” Rin said, frowning. "He's gotten a lot better about that."

“He still doesn’t like me.” Haru pressed his face to Makoto’s shoulder. “He’s jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Because Makoto remembered me.”

Makoto’s eyebrows knitted together as he looked down. Haru took notice and pulled back a little bit, staring at him. Obviously he had said the wrong thing and hurt the taller man, and Makoto could see he realized that and didn’t know what to say.

“Damnit Haru,” Rin mumbled at the side as he leaned against the bedside table. “Makoto -- we know you can’t help it, alright? Sousuke is just going to have to deal with this in his own way. Don’t let it get to you.”

Makoto wanted to tell him that it wasn’t just Sousuke. That having the pressure of remembering people on his shoulders was hard and difficult and left an ache in his chest when he couldn’t do it, but his words died on his tongue.

“You don’t _have_ to remember anyone. If you didn’t remember me, I’d still be here.” Haru’s voice was comforting and made him feel a little better.

“I--. . Thank you,” he said softly, pressing his face to his shoulder again. “Sousuke really isn’t pressing me to remember. I like having him around . . “

Haru made a noise in the back of his throat as he nodded and patted his back. Rin watched him and huffed a little bit with a smile. Their talk soon turned to lighter topics. Where Rin and Haru where -- it turns out Australia! Apparently Rin lived there for school, and Haru was doing a study abroad program involving swimming before Makoto’s accident, and was currently completing the last leg of it now. They had been in town for vacation during his accident. Haru lived in Tokyo like he and Sousuke did, which was -- beyond comforting to hear. Haru offered to drop out of his program since Makoto was awake now, but hearing that he only had two months left in it he had just smiled and shook his head.

He wanted the only person he could remember around, but he also didn’t want Haru to waste all those months of practice and commitment for him.

They were in the middle of listening to Rin tell him all about their swimming when Sousuke came back. Two colas in his hands, he tossed one to Rin and handed the water from under his arm to Haru. Who stared at it and took a drink while maintaining eye contact with the tall man. It cracked a smile to Sousuke’s lips and that alone comforted Makoto. It seemed like his walk had calmed him down and when he handed a chocolate flavored milk drink to Makoto, saying that he had asked Miko-san when he saw her if Makoto could drink that -- Makoto’s face had lit up.

There was still tension in the air. Still a bit of -- jealousy was the word Haru had used, but Makoto wasn’t sure if it was right. Still, whatever it was hung in the air but was soon washed away by their laughter. And unlike his visits with his other friends and his family, the group did not leave as the sun went down in the sky.

At some point Haru moved from facing Makoto to leaning against his chest. Makoto’s arms around him, he ate his dinner with them there and even shared a bite with Haru. Who prompted scowled and declared that he’d bring him something better. Sousuke had said that Makoto was on a strict diet and Haru had replied that this food was going to make him more sick than it was going to make him better.

Makoto never knew he could laugh so richly before then.

Eventually though, all good times had to come to an end. There was no place for them to sleep and Makoto had been feeling Haru’s stomach growling for close to two hours now. When he started to nod off in his arms, Makoto had looked over at Rin and asked if it was about time they headed home? Rin had agreed, feeling hungry and tired himself despite having gotten a bag of chips from the vending machines down in the lobby, neither wanting to leave to get _actual_  food, and it took some prompting to get Haru out of Makoto’s lap.

They promised to be back the next day, seeing as they had the weekend to spend with him before they needed to head home once more, and Makoto waved to them with affection before slumping back.

The only member of the party who had not left, was Sousuke. Who sat in his chair, watching Makoto now that they were alone.

“Did you have fun?” Sousuke’s voice rang out to him as Makoto’s eyes were slipping closed. They snapped open with a surprised look which made Sousuke laugh at him.

“Don’t do that,” Makoto’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment before he smiled. “Yeah. I -- They felt so natural to be around.”

“Everyone else didn't?”

“No, no. But I felt -- less pressured. With them and you here . . “ Makoto trailed off. Something pricked at the back of his head and found it’s way to his lips. He wasn’t sure if he should voice it because of the reaction before, but it escaped. “I wonder why I remembered something about Haru?”

Sousuke didn’t have the same reaction as before and simply shrugged. “You two have always been close. Best friends.”

Makoto’s cheeks heated up in a smile as he nodded his head. “He felt like a best friend.”

A hand came out to touch his and their fingers found themselves laced together automatically. Since his time spent with Haru earlier, he was finding the physical affection more natural now. He _was_ an affectionate person, he touched his friends. Giving Sousuke’s hand a squeeze he smiled over at him.

“You should bring your dinner next time,” Makoto said, same kind and caring smile staying present. “That way we can eat together. I feel bad when you leave hungry.”

Sousuke smiled though it twitched slightly. “You really don’t mind me coming every day?”

Surprised, he shook his head. “No! Of course not. I love it, it gives me something to look forward to.”

That seemed to be more than enough to comfort the other man and Sousuke smiled and nodded his head. Makoto’s eyes were still heavy with sleep and he could tell Sousuke noticed it. His thumb was rubbing comforting circles against the back of his hand and Makoto smiled sleepily as he leaned back -- his cover having been tugged out and draped over him and his clothing changed after he ate dinner. In the bathroom of course, with Miko-san.

“Sousuke?” he murmured softly, the warm comfort of his hand on his never having left. The circling motion slowly lulling him to sleep, eyes closed.

“Mmm.”

“When I get out of here, am I going to live with you?”

There was a pause in the motion of his thumb, before it picked up again.

“If you want to. All of your things are still at home, but if you want to live somewhere else I won’t stop you.”

Makoto wondered briefly where he would live if he went somewhere else. It seemed natural to go where his things were, and no offense intended towards his Family but they seemed more like strangers to him than Sousuke did. He didn’t blame them for not being able to be here every moment, though.

“I want to,” his sleepy voice growing scratchy and slurred. “Go home with you, Sousuke.”

Makoto didn’t know he was smiling until he felt the light touch to his forehead, the curve of his lips evident to him though he couldn’t see it. And unlike this time, he was awake enough to call that a kiss.

 


	4. Burnt Mackerel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Chapter! There's also a mix on 8tracks I made for this fic because I wanted something to listen to while I wrote. If you want to listen to it, it's on my tumblr! As always, I apologize for any and all spelling mistakes. I'll see you next time!

“Haru -- _No_.”

“It’s fine.”

“Haru, you promised you’d keep your clothes **on**!”

“I said it’s fine.”

“Haru, you’re scaring Makoto!”

“He’s not scaring me, honest! U-Uhm, why is he . . “

“Because he’s an idiot-- **_Haru_**! Get out of there!”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s _not_ fine!”

Rin’s hair was matching his face as he held Haru back with two shaking hands. He was yelling something about how Haru was meant to outgrow this as he got older, and Haru replied with something about how he hadn’t gotten to swim since they got back to Japan. Sousuke, Makoto noticed, was doing nothing to keep Haru out of the rather impressive fountain the Hospital had in the lobby and instead was leaning against Makoto’s wheelchair with a smarmy grin on his face as he watched the scene unfold.

“Should we . . help?” Makoto asked, a little lost and fighting the urge to be both mortified and amused at the same time.

“No. You heard Nanase. It’s fine.”

And that was how the most interesting weekend of his life -- _that he could remember, of course_ \-- started.

His observation that he had a colorful cast of friends had been nothing but accurate. The group had come over the next day, and seeing as they only had the weekend to spend with Makoto, had arrived early in the day. They had to part ways for Makoto’s physical therapy, but had rejoined him soon after -- saying they had gone out to eat and even made plans to run out and grab some things around dinner time so they wouldn’t be stuck watching him eat alone. Makoto was grateful, not enjoying leaving them hungry after all.

They had even gotten permission to take Makoto out of the room. Makoto had been out of his room before on his way to and from therapy, but sitting in his wheelchair with Sousuke pushing him along, Rin and Haru at his side -- was more than he could have asked for. It was _fun._ And that, along with happiness, was something that could cure anything that was wrong with you. Or at least, that’s what Makoto thought.

Which had led them to the fountain where Haru promptly attempted to strip down his clothes. Makoto wasn’t sure if he was shocked, relieved, or _both_ when he saw the swimsuit on under Haru’s clothing. All he knew was it had made him laugh and when a fuming Rin had finally gotten him dressed again, the grouping had made their way away from the fountains. Or any water. Small pools.

Feeling the need to share more of his condition with them, they had soon learned that there wasn’t just memories that Makoto couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember what some things were called, he couldn’t read or write, and if too much was said at once he got a little nervous smile on his face. Haru had been the one to catch onto that, repeating it for him to which Makoto was grateful.

“So, Haru really likes the water, huh?” he had asked them when they all took a stop outside on the grounds in a grouping of tables and benches laid out for people to eat at. The others had brought snacks and he was allowed to have a pudding cup, which he was happy about because it was sweet and delicious!

“Mm.”

“He’s very attached. They’ve been going out for a very long time, haven’t you Haru?” Rin had said, staring at him with a raised brow as he stole one Sousuke’s chips and stuck it in his own mouth. Haru said nothing and simply looked away from him.

“I think it’s hilarious.”

“Eh?” Makoto glanced over at Sousuke who was leaning on his elbows and staring at Haru with a bored expression.

“Especially when he’s drinking water. I think it’s hilarious. It’s like cannibalism or something.”

“Haru’s in _love_ with water, Sousuke. Not _actually_ water.” Rin snorted as Makoto giggled a little bit. Haru on the other hand looked a bit angry as his brows knitted together.

“Don’t insult the water.”

Makoto wasn’t stupid and it had been made clear to him the day before that Sousuke and Haru did not like one another. But he had a feeling that Rin was right, it did look like Sousuke was trying . . a little. And even Haru was . . well. Makoto wasn’t sure if Haru was trying. He probably would need his memories in order to put that one into place, and decided to leave that for another day.

After snacks they traveled around some more. There wasn’t too far to go, but even walking around the courtyard was fun. He had apologized to Souske, saying that he felt bad for making him push his chair all day to which he received a hair ruffle and no comment on it. Makoto would have asked if he was too heavy, but he had felt his stomach and could tell that he really had loss some mass during his . . coma.

Coma. It was so weird to think that less than a week ago he had been in a sleep like state for six months.

Even more so that six months ago he had a whole life he knew nothing about.

He tried not to dwell on that.

When they finally returned to his room it was due to the fact that it was getting dark and he did have a bit of a curfew. Miko-san came in when they got settled to ask him what he wanted to eat for dinner, and though his choices were limited and he needed to ask what a few things were, he told her. With that, plans for the others to bring something back to eat where made.

And when Haru said he’d be staying behind with Makoto, there had been a flicker of something across Sousuke’s face. He didn't look pleased, but sighed. He had agreed and Rin had slung an arm around his shoulder, leading him out of the room and down the hall -- leaving the two friends alone for the first time since Makoto woke up. A fact that was not lost on Makoto, who shifted a little bit and cast Haru a nervous smile. Haru was the most familiar person he had, but he wasn’t sure what to say for a second -- the mere fact that they were alone making him nervous.

Haru on the other hand, didn’t seem to take mind to that. He simply got up on his feet, climbed into Makoto’s bed and sat next to him with his legs extended before him. His feet came up shorter than Makoto’s, and the brunette realized for the first time how different their heights would be if they were standing.

“You’re thinking.”

“Huh? Oh, yes,” Makoto smiled over at him with a tilt of his head.

“About?”

“How short you are! I hadn’t realized yet.”

“That’s because you haven’t stood up yet.” Haru looked as if it was a very obvious conclusion and Makoto had to laugh and agree with an exasperated sigh as he sat back. He stared over at him and now that words had been shed, even simple and meaningless things like that, he felt a little bit better about everything. It was silly to be nervous about being alone with Haru.

“Haru?” he called out after a moment of silence as Haru leaned back against the pillows as well.

“What?” The blue eyed man’s eyes were turned to him with a questioning expression on his face.

“What was I like as a kid?”

“Scaredy cat.”

“H-Hey . . “ he pouted a little bit with a blush. “That’s not nice.”

“It’s true,” he said instead. “You smiled a lot. More than now.”

“Eh . . ?” Makoto frowned a little bit and shifted. Their hands touched and he found his finger poking Haru’s index. “I smile.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t reach your eyes,” Haru supplied for him. He turned his gaze away from Makoto and glanced towards the ceiling instead. “Like you’re smiling because you don’t know what to do. But not all the time. You looked happy today.”

Makoto wasn’t sure what to take from that. Because Haru was right. Sometimes he did feel like he was smiling because he didn’t know what to do, a nervous tick would hit and it would just -- pop up!

“I was . . “ He trailed off and Haru looked back in time to see a smile that fully reached his eyes. “I am. I’m having so much fun with you guys. It makes me feel like I’m not -- broken . . ”

“You’re not broken.” He looked offended by the prospect.

His smile twitched towards the one that was more nervous and he could tell Haru noticed from the way his eyebrows drew down. “I can’t remember who I am, Haru.”

“I know. But that doesn’t mean there’s something broken. You’re like a piece of mackerel someone forgot they were cooking and it got burnt. Scratch away the burnt pieces and it’s perfectly good mackerel.”

Makoto stared dumbly at him. He stared and then burst out laughing, shaking his head as Haru looked on with tears in his eyes and a bright smile on his face.

“Did you just compare me to a _fish_!?”

“See. You remember what mackerel is, so you can’t be broken.”

He wasn’t sure if he was being serious for a moment but he saw the corner of his mouth twitch, not quite a smile, but it still made him laugh harder and need a moment to calm down. Wiping his eyes with joyful giggles, he nuzzled back against the bed before slumping closer and resting his cheek on Haru’s shoulder.

“You’re so weird.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I mean. I like it.,” Makoto smiled and wrapped his fingers around Haru’s who held back. “You and Rin make me feel so normal. And Sousuke . . “

“ . . Do you like Sousuke?” Haru’s voice was light and Makoto wondered if that was due to the fact that Haru didn’t like him.

“Mm. I like spending time with him. He can be a little scary, because he’s so . . quiet, but he says really nice things to me. Like you do, except with less fish.”

“Mine are better, then.”

“Of course,” he giggled again and felt Haru rest his cheek against his hair. A serene smile graced Makoto’s face as he closed his eyes for a moment. There was silence but it was comfortable and for some reason he felt that Haru was thinking the same thing. Haru was like the best friend he never had, except it was more like -- the best friend he couldn’t remember.

“Haru?” he said softly, opening his eyes again. There was a nod against his hair. “I’m really glad you’re my best friend. That’s -- a little embarrassing to say, but -- ”

“No it’s not,” Haru interjected. He didn’t ask why Makoto thought he was his best friend, he didn’t ask who told him their relationship. He simply accepted his words. Makoto smiled and sighed a little bit, but it was a happy sigh.

“I’ll miss you when I’m gone.”

“I’ll call you.”

“Did we use to call?” he questioned.

“Sometimes. We messaged. You messaged.”

“Messaged . . ?”

“Ah. You write on the phone and it goes to another persons phone.”

“Oh, like an e-mail.”

“Yeah.”

“I guess we can’t do that now, that I can’t read . . the phone will be difficult too . . “ Though he had never messaged before -- no, he couldn’t remember he had, he really needed to differentiate those two things -- he could admit that he would rather hear Haru’s voice than see words right now.

“Sousuke will help you.” There was no doubt in Haru’s words and Makoto nodded.

“I’m going to live with him, you know?” he said before catching himself. “Again, I mean.”

“I see.”

“Do you think that’s the right choice? I’m not sure if my parents wanted me to go with them, after all he is a stranger . . “

“So are your parents, right now. But if you don’t want to go, don’t go.” It sounded so easy when he said it. And Makoto really didn’t have any doubts about going to Sousuke’s, but he wanted to hear what someone who seemed to know a lot about him had to say. “It’s your choice to make.”

“Thank you, Haru-chan,” he said with a smile and felt Haru stiffen under his cheek. He wasn’t sure what that was about, but when he glanced up through his lashes he saw a look of happiness on his face that made him laugh. Makoto hadn’t realized what he called him. “I’m going to go back with him when I’m discharged.”

“I know.”

 

Food was eaten and clothes were changed -- when Sousuke and Rin returned the taller male had brought with him what he had promised Makoto before. A change of clothes, or to be more precise, a few changes of clothes for Makoto. Which had made the brown haired man elated because that simply ensured that he didn’t have to wear anymore hospital gowns! It also gave him a little taste into what he liked, looking over the flannel shirts, simple neutral earthy tones and also a few . . brighter shirts with comical cats on it. He supposed he liked cats. And seeing them and smiling, he guessed he still did.

Haru and Rin had left a little earlier than the night before. Haru wasn’t dozing off where he sat next to Makoto on the bed and Rin looked a little more awake. They had apologized for leaving so early, to which Makot had laughed because it wasn’t early at all, and said that they were going to stop by the gym before it closed so that Haru could swim.

The promise to be back the next day was made, seeing as they left on monday, and goodbyes were shared. And with that, once more, they were alone.

Sousuke was drinking a water as they left, this time sitting in his regular spot -- having claimed it before Rin could get to it.

“Oh boy,” Makoto leaned back with a sigh. “That was exhausting!”

“You had fun, though.”

“You could tell?” He laughed a little and rolled onto his side to look at Sousuke with a smile. Rolling over like that felt so good, and it was one of the things he had practiced in therapy. He could do it, but being able to do it was a little more difficult than it should be -- so he was trying to practice what he could from his bed. And it was more comfortable, anyway.

“You’re smiling, you haven’t stopped.” Sousuke leaned on the bed and smiled at him. Their faces were near eye level but not overly close and Makoto beamed back.

“I feel too good to stop,” he admitted with a laugh. Sousuke moved his arm so he was leaning on his palm with his elbow on the bed. The way he was looking at him made Makoto’s stomach flip a bit.

“I told you you looked better when you smiled,” he murmured as he stared at him. Feeling embarrassed, Makoto glanced away and tugged at a piece of fuzz on the sheets under him.

“I wouldn’t know,” he admitted with a nervous laugh and an apologetic smile. “I don’t really like looking at myself.”

That confused his friend, who sat up a bit more and raised his eyebrows. “What? Why not?”

Shifting a little uncomfortable now, and regretting saying anything, he shrugged his shoulders and glanced bashfully down. “I don’t . . It’s like looking at a stranger. Except instead of knowing that I should know them, it makes me feel. Well, bad. Because that’s **me** , and not knowing _me_ like that . . “

Sousuke stared at him for a moment. And then reaching out, he held one hand to Makoto who took it a little confused. They had undid him from his wires and IV that day and instead all that was left was the hospital bracelet around his arm. He was grateful for that because one second he was laying down and the next he was yanked forward, an arm coming under his legs as the other leg go of his hand and wrapped around his back.

“Sousuke--!” he exclaimed in fear, his arms coming around his shoulders to hold on tightly with confusion and terror fuling them.

Sousuke said nothing and simply kept him in his arms, hoisting him up out of the bed in what Makoto, for some reason, knew to be a bridal style.

“What are you doing--! P-Put me down!” he was a little frightened to be this high in the air, but he knew Sousuke wouldn’t drop him. The strong arms holding him up like he was as light as a pillow was assuring of that. Sousuke, again, said nothing. He moved towards the bathroom and Makoto had a fear in his chest that he was going for the mirror.

“Sousuke, _Sousuke no_ ,” he whispered, leaning forward and pressing his face to his neck. His nose and lips pressed against the warm and soft flesh there and he felt Sousuke tighten his grip on him as he opened the already ajar door with his foot, the kick josling them slightly. “Sousuke -- _I don’t want to see_!”

Again he paid no mind, and the hand around his back pulled away to flick the switch. They stopped and Makoto knew they were in front of the mirror. He was trembling slightly now and trying to hide what he didn’t want to see in Sousuke’s neck. A broad and strong hand rubbed at his back and calmed him slightly, but didn’t make him pull away.

“Makoto.”

“No.”

“Makoto.”

“No -- No! I’m _not_ looking . . “

“Why?” What a dumb question.

“I told you,” he hissed, a little anger in his voice. How dare he just lift him up and carry him into the bathroom like this -- after he just said he was uncomfortable! “I don’t know who’s in the reflection, I hate it!”

“If you never look, you’ll never know,” he told him, and even given the position Makoto had with his face pressed so tightly against his neck, his words were so close to his ear he could feel his breath. His voice was husky and made him swallow as well as his words.

“ . . . I’m scared,” he murmured softly. Sousuke simply rubbed his back and shifted him to try and get him to look, and this time Makoto did as was prompted.

Slowly he untucked his head from where it was hiding in his neck, and caught his reflection out of the corner of his eye.

It was the same as it had been the first time he saw it. Light brown hair, vibrant green eyes. Though this time he noticed something else. He was tall. He already knew that from therapy and from sitting next to Haru, but here in Sousuke’s arms it was _funny_. He looked too long to be held properly, and he noticed why Sousuke was holding him with such ease. Asides from the fact he was so strong, of course. Even though he had felt his body with his hands, seeing it now like this -- he could tell where muscles had once been on his arms through his short sleeve shirt and shorts and where they were now absent.

He turned his head properly and looked at the man in the mirror. He was tall and he had short brown hair. His eyelashes looked long, and his eyes were a little bloodshot -- had he been close to crying? Arms that once held strength gripped the red shirt under his hands that belonged to Sousuke, whose own arms that looked like bands of steel held him up with ease. Eyes trained down his body, where he was crumpled up against him and looked over his legs.

Makoto avoided taking notice of his legs when he was changing, or in therapy. And there as a glaring reason why. A reason that he didn’t need a mirror to notice, and a reason that he avoided even thinking about.

“You can see my scars . . “ he murmured.

“I’ve seen your scars before,” Sousuke’s voice was soft and echoed in the small restroom.

“I can see them _attached_ to all of me now. They’re more real.”

The scars were running over his legs. He had been in an accident and knew that there were also scars on his back, as well as little ones over his belly and arms, though not as apparent as the ones on his _legs._ That was where the most damage had taken place, though one could argue that when his head collided with the pavement and he was sent tumbling that was the most damage. The most debilitating damage, at least. Here on his legs, it was the most obvious. They weren’t so glaring that if he walked down the street in shorts children would stop and point, but to him?

They were horrible.

He couldn’t explain why, though. It more than likely had to do with his fear of looking at himself he had developed.

“You needed skin grafts,” Sousuke said. “In some areas. Apparently you went a distance after you were hit and ate up some skin.”

Makoto frowned and stared at his knees.

“They’re ugly.”

“They’re reminders,” Sousuke interjected.

“Of what?” That angry feeling was still there, but his voice was soft as he glared at the mirror in distaste. “The fact that my life will never be what it use to be? I don’t _want_ reminders of that.”

“They’re reminders that you’re alive,” Makoto could see the face in the mirror frown and look serious. His fingers were digging into his thigh and he watched how they twitched against his body. “They’re proof that you went through hell and you came back.”

The look on his face was slowly moving towards tears as he swallowed hard. And despite having talked about it with Haru, despite being constantly reassured that there was nothing wrong with him, that there was no pressure being put on him -- cracking words still left his mouth.

“You -- You don’t think I’m broken?”

Sousuke’s face nuzzled down into his hair, and this time -- because of the mirror -- Makoto could see the fond and pained expression on it as he held him tighter to his body.

“You’re not broken, Makoto.”

He breathed in hard through a nose that was getting stuffy. “Y-You’re not gonna compare me to a fish, are you?”

“ _What?_ ”

Makoto burst out into wet laughter at Sousuke’s confused expression and smiled up at him before resting his cheek back on his shoulder. He didn’t turn his expression away from the mirror. There was still some feeling in his chest about seeing himself, he didn’t think it’d be cleared with one session, but he didn’t shy away. And when Sousuke finally turned the lights off and took him back to bed, he felt a feeling in his chest of happiness as he drifted off to sleep, his hand tightly holding Sousuke’s.

* * *

_ That night he  dreamt  of warmth. He dreamt of laying on his back, suspended in the air and staring up at the blue sky. He could see clouds above him and a distant image of a bird flying in front of the path of the sun. _

_The area beneath him was warm and soft and he felt like he was floating._

_The sight before his eyes was almost magical as his heart skipped a beat and he took it in. Makoto felt like he’d never forget this sight for the rest of his life as he let out a little laugh and continued to stare up at it._

_He wasn’t sure what the dream meant._

* * *

“What _are_ you watching?” Sousuke entered the room with a bag in his hands, eyes turning towards where squeaky cute voices were coming from the television. Makoto’s face was flushed red and he scrambled for the remote, staring at the buttons and trying to remember which one changed it -- Miko-san had told him so he could do so before his friends arrived! -- and clicked the downwards arrow. A sports program now playing, he looked away a little nervous and wrinkled his mouth a little as he cleared his throat.

“Nothing.”

“Was . . that a children's program?” Sousuke was grinning now as he walked over, sitting in his seat and shrugging out of his coat.

“No!” he puffed up his face, growing redder. “No, it was . . Ahh . . That’s embarrassing . . “

Sousuke laughed and shook his head. “I don’t care. What was it?”

“They . . Well. I wanted to see if I could catch onto anything they were saying. About -- reading, you know. That’s all.” He hadn’t caught onto anything.

Sousuke’s face softened as he opened up his bag, and tugged out what was inside. He pulled out a pad of paper and a package of pencils.

“You had the same idea as me. Kinda,” he admitted. “Except you don’t need to watch something designed for kids in order to learn. We’re going to get you real classes, your Mom and I talked about it on the phone last night. But for now . . “ Sousuke opened up the pad of paper and showed him some carefully drawn out characters with lines and dots.

“One of my professors is married to a kindergarten teacher. It’s not all cutesy, but I figured you could give it a shot when you’re sitting here bored. Don’t feel pressured though, it’s meant to just . . practice.”

Makoto’s face was lighting up as he took them from him, the pencils had cats on them! He grinned and smoothed his hands over the letters.

“Thank you, Sousuke,” he said fondly. “And thank you to your professor too. I know -- that it wouldn’t be easy, I mean. I just wanted to see.”

“Don’t feel frustrated if you can’t do it. No one catches onto things right away,” Sousuke said, eyeing him before folding up the paper bag and setting it on the side table next to the mirror. Makoto had asked Miko-san for the white object once more that morning and had taken a while staring at himself. He was trying a lot of things today.

“You know, I realized something today,” he started with a little smile as he moved to place the package of pencils and the pad down on the table as well.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Sousuke asked, leaning his arm on the chair.

“I’ve been feeling far too sorry about myself,” his eyes closed as he stuck his nose up in the air with a pinched brow, arms crossing over his chest. “And I decided that it was by time to stop.”

“ . . You just woke up from a coma, Makoto.” Sousuke’s words held depth but there was a smile in his voice that Makoto saw when he peeked one eye open. “You’re allowed to feel sorry for yourself.”

“What’s feeling sorry for myself going to do?” Makoto sighed and dropped his arms down once more along with his gaze. “If I sit here -- calling myself broken, thinking there’s something wrong with me . . Feeling like I -- hate myself,” Sousuke flinched. “Then nothing is going to get better. I can’t change what happened. I can only move forward, yes?”

Sousuke stared at him with a half smile.

“Yeah.”

Feeling accomplished, Makoto nodded his head and smiled. He was sure he’d slip up, but maybe that was just his self doubt talking at the moment. Because he needed to be sure -- sure that he’d stop asking his friends for reassurance about the same thing twice in a row. He needed to be strong and to be brave, and in order to do that -- as well as reclaim his memories -- he had to pick himself up.

When Rin and Haru arrived, he told them the same thing. Haru even came with a present, which was . . mackerel. Neither Rin or Sousuke understood when Makoto burst out laughing so hard that tears ran down his cheeks, but they all rolled their eyes when Haru ate it because Miko-san wasn’t around to say it was alright. And ignored his “it’s always alright” when they told him the reason.

The day was bittersweet. It was as fun as the last, but it also came with the promise that when they left -- it would be a while before he saw them again. He wasn’t even sure when he’d see Rin next, since he _lived_ in Australia unlike Haru who was just in a program at the moment.

When the night came, they stayed until a nurse poked her head in and said they needed to pack it up. Haru had hugged him and Makoto had hugged him back so tightly that he was afraid he’d break him, even with his weak arms. He had hugged Rin and felt the big fat gloopy tears wet his shoulders.

“I’ll be back soon,” Haru had said, his lips brushing against his ear as Makoto drew him in for another hug with Rin there as well. Arms around both of them, he heard Rin’s garbled agreement through his tears. Snuggling, Makoto nodded and squeezed them.

“I-I’ll call!” he said, squeezing his eyes shut. “And -- Sousuke! You have to help me with the phone, you _have_ to . . “

“Of course I will.”

A pleased noise left him as a final squeeze was given. Rin wiped his eyes and snot off on his own shirt and sniffled as he waved, before shoving his hands in his pockets and walking out, shoulders shaking. Makoto smiled fondly after him as Haru gave another squeeze to Makoto and pulled back. Their hands stayed connected for a moment as he stared at him.

“I’ll be back,” was all Haru had said before letting go and walking out. There was no goodbye, but since they’d be seeing each other in a few months -- there didn’t need to be, right?

Haru’s back cleared the door and the waterworks started heavier. Putting his head in his hands, he wiped his face and hiccuped as two strong arms came around him. Sitting on the bed next to him, Sousuke pulled him against his chest and nuzzled his nose into his hair. It felt like the first time he held him, but this time there was a bit of happiness tinged in with his tears.

“I-I wanted to be selfish and tell them not to leave,” he whispered as he hiccuped. “But I-I know they’ll be back.”

“They will,” Sousuke nuzzled his hair.

“I-I said I’d be stronger this morning, and now look at me . . “ he laughed a little, feeling a tad pathetic.

“There’s no weakness in crying.”

Makoto let out a wet laugh. “S-Sometimes you sound like a monk or something, Sousuke . . “

“Not really. Just lately. I’m laying a false impression of myself to lure you home with me.”

He giggled and elbowed him lightly as he rested his cheek against Sousuke’s chest. His tears were still coming, but Sousuke’s words were helping to ease the loneliness that was creeping up. And almost as if knowing that the feeling was coming, he reached down and cupped Makoto’s chin. Lifting his face up, he wiped away some tears on his cheeks with his thumb.

“ . . I promised I wouldn’t leave you alone. So even if they take a few months to come back, I’ll never leave your side,” There was heat in his eyes again as he searched Makoto’s face. Makoto also could see -- longing. He didn’t know what it was for, but smiled and nodded with wet eyes. His smile reached his eyes.

“I can tell you mean it,” he beamed. “Sousuke -- I can’t wait to go home. I can’t wait to, to show off my walking to Haru and Rin. When they come back, maybe I’ll even swim with them?”

Sousuke smiled a half smile.

“Swimming, huh?”

“I had a dream,” he admitted softly. “That -- I _think_ I was swimming in it. I was on my back and looking up at the sky and I’d never felt happier. I -- I want to feel that again, is that silly?”

He shook his head and rested his chin on Makoto’s head, letting him fall back against his chest with his cheek.

“No,” he murmured. “No, that suits you.”

 


	5. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this Chapter has taken so long to come out! And that it's so short. I've had work, and wanted things to get going, haha. I hope you enjoy it, and since they're finally at home things will start picking up and getting to what I have planned now! Apologize for any spelling mistakes, and again thank you for the kind comments . . !   
> See you next time!

Without Haru and Rin there, time started to go by a bit faster. Makoto wasn’t sure if he was excited about that, or if that showed how attached he had gotten to them in the three days he remembered actually knowing them. He would have been lonely had it not been for the fact that the visitors did not stop, and Sousuke never left his side.

Every day was some type of therapy. It wasn’t just physical for his muscles or his legs, he also started having a woman coming in to meet with him and talk about his memory. She was a therapist who specialized in cases where patients had issues remembering, and played games with him. Showing him pictures of things and asking the names, pictures of people he had met to see if he could remember the name and attachment he had been given. He was even shown a few photos of people he had not met, because after learning his reaction to Haru they wondered if there was anyone else like that. But no one else sparked a memory in his mind.

He was proud, however, how he did on the games. He remembered his family's names and the names of those around him, though Gou-chan did mess him up a bit and he accidentally called Rei by Nagisa’s last name -- he still did very well.

Every day she came in, discussed how his memory was making him feel as well as how it was effecting his life, how relationships were forming and the connections he was making with people. Makoto liked their talks. It took a weight off his shoulders he didn’t know he had, and after a week of them he felt a bit better about his situation.

By that time, he was able to start walking on his own as well.

Building up the muscle would take longer, right now it was a matter of getting use to putting weight on his legs again. He didn’t need to learn how to walk in the sense that he didn’t know how, he did, but laying in a bed for months left his legs weak and uneasy. Soon he was walking with a trainer holding his elbow, then between two wooden poles. And then he was walking around the hospital with Sousuke. Sousuke standing near him and Makoto close enough to have his hand on his arm gave comfort that if he stumbled, he would catch him.

Makoto wasn’t sure where he would be in his recovery without Sousuke.

Sousuke was always there. He took dirty clothes home with him, he brought clean clothes back. He helped Makoto with the character lessons he had brought the day Rin and Haru left. He chatted with him, told him stories about college, and even just sat in the silence watching a television program with Makoto when the other man was too tired to properly hold a conversation but too wired to sleep. Sousuke was there to hold his hand as they walked, encourage him when his knees buckled, supply him with words he couldn’t remember.

Had he not already met Haru and sensed the bond between them, he would have thought Sousuke was his best friend.

When the first week started turning into a second, and Makoto was eating solid foods once more having been cleared by his doctor, he started to wonder when he could go home. He’d been awake for over two weeks now, and seeing as he could walk slowly without Sousuke holding him he didn’t see why he couldn’t . . leave.

He wanted to go home.

He had no idea what home looked like, where it was or what was even there -- but he knew he wouldn’t find his memories sitting in a hospital like this. He wanted to continue his recovery, but he also wanted to . . get going with his life. When Miko-san said that he could be discharged on Saturday, he was beyond excited. He couldn’t wait to tell Sousuke, and ended up blurting it out when he saw him that night. Laughing, Sousuke had told him he already knew and the two started talking about what was going to happen when Makoto was out of the hospital.

The next two days consisted of therapy, and talk about plans for when he was discharged. Makoto was going to come back to the hospital three times a week for physical therapy, and have a session with another therapist twice a week -- with the weekend to himself. His Mother and Father came to talk over the details with him while Sousuke entertained Ren and Ran. It was them after all who were going to be helping to pay for his treatment, and though he knew these people were his family he felt guilt over having someone do that for him.

He had hugged them tightly and told them that he’d work hard.

The therapist for his memory would also be helping with his reading, and though it wasn’t the same woman he was currently working with Makoto had faith that he could do this.

“We’ll have a nice dinner when we get you home,” Sousuke was telling him on Friday night as he finished gathering Makoto’s things up. They had eaten together, something that Makoto’s mother had brought for them, and now were taking time to pick up the area. It was surprising how much could be left around when you’d only been using it properly for three weeks!

“Are we going to order in, or are you cooking?”

“I’ll cook,” Sousuke said, shrugging a little bit as he twirled a cat pencil around in his fingers. “I haven’t done it in a while, so don’t get your hopes up.”

Makoto smiled and giggled a little bit. “Are you a good cook?”

“I burnt water when we first met,” he admitted with a bit of color creeping around his ears and neck. “But I got better after a while. I make decent dishes now.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” Makoto assured him, hands folded in his lap. He wanted to be up and moving around, but that was simply because he was feeling so -- restless!

“Yeah well, we can always order something if you can’t stomach it.”

“Oh, are you insecure, Sousuke?” A little grin was creeping onto his face as he watched him with a coy smile. Seeing how Sousuke’s neck was continuing to gain color, he giggled and was promptly hit in the face with a orca plush in order to shut him up.

  
  


Makoto had seen the outside of the hospital on his walk with Haru, Sousuke and Rin. But when his Mother came to pick them up in a car and he was wheeled out of the hospital, on policy since he could walk just fine now!, he felt nervous. Sousuke held his arm when he got out of his chair but let him take the few steps on his own to the car where his Mother waited. Ren, Ran and his Father had stayed home since all of them couldn’t fit in the car at the same time -- not without someone sitting on someones lap, and that wasn’t safe.

Sitting next to Sousuke in the back seat, the ride back to their shared apartment had been -- magical was a cheesy word that made his cheeks flare up thinking about it. Amazing was a better word. Amazing in the sense of, it was like his memory came back to him. But instead of any real memories returning, as he gazed at the unfamiliar streets he felt a sense of understanding and recognition hitting him deep in his belly.

He knew what that was called!

That was a bus!

That woman was wrapped in a scarf!

That baby was in a stroller!

He had no personal memories attached to these things, but knowing them caused a huge smile to blossom on his face as he exclaimed what they were like a kid in a candy store. Makoto didn’t have to see the bright smile on Sousuke’s face to know he was wearing it when he heard his laughter.

 

Their apartment was huge. That was Makoto’s first reaction to it when they pulled up to the building. His Mother had explained to him that they lived in a complex and his home was one of the areas inside. Makoto had simply nodded before saying that this place was still huge and Sousuke had grabbed his elbow to guide him inside with a bit of an eye roll followed by a overly fond smile.

And even though his Mother had explained, when they took the elevator up and Sousuke opened the door for the first time -- he was struck with the same thought.

_Their apartment was huge._

A large living room was the first thing to greet him and newly found legs carried him inside as he looked around in wonder. He didn’t hear his Mother whisper that she’d be back with the others after Makoto was settled in. He didn’t hear the door shut and his duffle bag of things set down in the hallway leading to the living area.

He was mesmerized.

“Sousuke . . “ Makoto whispered as he walked over and touched the nice looking black couch in the middle of the living room. Fingers trailing over the texture, he stared at it with a longing in his chest. He was meant to know this couch, and it was just an object but knowing that he had sat on this many times before was . .

Turning away, Sousuke following behind him at a distance as if he was unsure if he should approach him, Makoto’s eyes found shelves on one of the walls. Feet leading the way, he stared at what he saw before him.

A little tiny glass dolphin with a blue nose was sitting on the end, next to it a similar looking figure of a goldfish. Makoto’s fingers traced their carefully sculpted features before drawing his eyes to what was next in line.

Photographs.

Makoto had no wanted to see photographs of himself before, not wanting to see a stranger that was him, but since he was trying to get over that -- he had looked. And his chest tightened.

The first photograph was of him and his friends he had met. They were children with their arms around one another and something like a trophy in their hands. They were wearing medals and Rei was absent, but it looked like they were having fun. Makoto stared at himself with a strange look in his eyes before they moved onto the next photograph.

Sousuke and Rin stood out to him. The only reason he knew it was Sousuke was because he could see teal eye staring out at him from behind the mask and his arms stood out where they had Rin in a choke hold, pressing one down on top of his head.

“I hate that photo,” Sousuke’s amused voice was next to Makoto’s ear suddenly -- startling him.

“What are you wearing?”

“Rin wanted to dress up as Super Sentai. Sometime during the night I lost my sleeves. I think he cut them off. That mask is horrible, I made it.”

“It’s so cute,” Makoto giggled, glancing at the next one in line. “Ah, it’s you two again!”

“Mm. This is from us when we were younger,” Sousuke seemed to accept that Makoto was letting him into his exploring, and continued. “Actually this was taken a month before he transferred to be with you guys.”

“Really?” Makoto mused, humming a little in his throat before glancing to the next one. There seemed to be a bit of dust on the shelf where another photo use to be, but he paid no mind to it and simply assumed Sousuke had moved things around. And not cleaned. When was the last time he dusted? There were a lot of spots that looked like photographs were moved.

“Oh,” he gasped quietly as he glanced through photos of him and his siblings. His eyes came to rest on the only photograph he saw up there of them together. “It’s us.”

“ . . Yeah,” Sousuke’s voice was a little quieter now as if he was waiting for something. The photograph wasn’t as dusty as the others had been on top, and looked like it always belonged in it’s spot.

Inside the frame laid he and Sousuke. Sitting together on what looked like a rock wall, both sweaty and wearing tank tops with backpacks on their backs. Shorts, he could see running shoes on Sousuke’s feet where one was propped up over the other knee. Makoto was flashing the camera a peace sign with a bright smile, _wow he really was buff!_ , and Sousuke had his mouth opened as he looked like he was about to take a drink of his water and had gotten interrupted. He looked pissed.

“You look so angry!”

“I didn’t know he was going to take the damn photo, that’s why,”and the quiet tone was gone, replaced by fondness.

“He?” Makoto questioned, glancing over at Sousuke properly. He almost wished he hadn’t, because even though the quiet expectant tone was no more -- Sousuke’s eyes looked at the photographs if he was looking at a ghost. It made his chest feel tight.

“Your Mom wants us to avoid names,” Sousuke frowned a little bit. “But you’ll meet him soon. He should be coming over sometime . . ”

“Why didn’t he come to the hospital?”

“His parents are . . out of the picture and he’s been watching his younger brother,” Sousuke supplied. “He works too, so there was never time when you were able to have a visit. He’ll probably come by late at night, usually does.”

“Does he visit you often?” Makoto was curious about this man now, since Sousuke spoke as if he was a good friend. The teal eyed mans eyes grew dark as he glanced away and nodded his head.

“Yeah. He’s been a real help,” he murmured, pulling away from where he was leaning against Makoto’s side. “You want to sit down for a bit?”

“I think I’ve had enough of sitting,” the brunette quipped with a smile. “I want to look around some more! Ah, but I am a bit hungry . . do you want to show off those cooking skills yet?”

“Mm, no. We still have your Mom’s cooking, after all. Don’t want it to go to waste.”

“Alright! Do you need my help?” Makoto looked as if he was offering because he was so kind and not because he truly wanted to, his eyes betraying him as they tried to glance to the corners of the apartment he hadn’t seen yet. Sousuke smirked and shook his head.

“No, go ahead. I know you want to look around. The bedroom is down the hall,” he told him, turning around and heading towards the kitchen. Makoto nodded his head and started to walk before pausing and glancing over his shoulder with a smile.

“Where’s your bedroom?” he asked him and was surprised at how Sousuke stiffened.

“What?”

“Well. Uhm. You said the bedroom. So where’s yours?”

Sousuke didn’t turn back to him as he spoke and cleared his throat. “Bedrooms, dummy. They’re both down there. Mine is the first one, yours is the second.”

“Oh,” Makoto smiled. He had simply wanted to see Sousuke’s space as well, but he wasn’t sure now if he would be invading. It didn’t seem like Sousuke wanted him in his bedroom, at least he hadn’t understood that reaction from him. “I won’t go in.” He added as an after thought to assure him.

Sousuke had said nothing and headed into the kitchen, waving him off with his hand. Makoto watched his back before turning and heading down the hallway. In a way, it was still strange for him to be walking after sitting for so long -- but he wanted to get his body back to what it use to be. Back to being fighting fit as Sousuke had once said.

He found the bedroom easily enough. Walking inside, it didn’t feel like his bedroom. He had no memory of sleeping here before, but as he looked around he saw things that reminded him of himself. It was neat and clean. There were little nicknacks along the dresser near the window, Makoto walked over and looked them all over.

He opened the drawers and trifled through them, feeling like he was sneaking a peek at something he wasn’t supposed to. Looking over clothes he had worn time and time again, he knew they would fit him like the ones he was wearing. Loose on his shoulders, having to tie his belt a tighter notch than what was indicated by the worn out hole on the loops. Smiling sadly he smoothed his fingers over them and moved onto his closet.

Mostly clothes, he noticed, with some other things inside. There were shoes that were for a warmer season and he crouched down tugging out a large tupperware box, popping open the lid and looking inside. This was his room. It was perfectly okay to look through things.

The box smelled like the summer and he wondered why he knew that.

Inside was a pair of -- what looked like leggings? He would have to ask the proper name. Actually, it was two pairs! Along with some swim trunks. He recognized swimming goggles, sun lotion, towels, papers with words on them he couldn’t read. More things inside, a bag and sunglasses, more towels and a box of bandaids for some reason. At the very bottom under a t-shirt he wasn’t sure belonged in there, was a little brown box. It was cutely decorated and Makoto wondered if it once held a sweet cake or something of the sort.

Sitting back on his legs, he tugged out the box and popped it open. He was disappointed to find letters. Lots of letters, actually. They were on different types of paper, torn edges, half sheets, white blank paper, yellow paper, little square ones with sticky backs that had long lost their proper stick.

He wished he could meet his old self. Ask him why he kept a box with papers and words in another box in the bottom of his closet. He wanted to ask Sousuke what these things said, but he also had a feeling they were private. After all, they were tucked away! He would come back and get them when he could read better.

Carefully closing the box up, he laid everything back where they belonged inside and tucked it back away.

Makoto could smell the food coming from the kitchen, and though he wanted to explore more he knew he could come back in and do so later.

 

Though Makoto held no memory of this place, when food was ate together at their small kitchen table and his family came by -- the apartment felt a little bit more like a home. His family only stayed for lunch, explaining that they needed to head home properly for the twins schooling -- that they had kept them out for long enough days and though schoolwork was being e-mailed to them, they needed to be in class. Makoto had felt guilt that they were out of school at all, having not put two and two together. They promised to come back over the Christmas break, and that had left Makoto confused.

Because apparently Christmas was _next week_.

Makoto knew about Christmas, but no one had even mentioned it to him . . he should have gathered by decorations he had seen, but he assumed the festive cute things were just -- things! His slow mind having not put them together and left him feeling a little silly as he waved off their strange looks when it was mentioned. He should know those things. He should have figured it out, but he didn’t . . and he felt like a fool for it.

Sousuke had made good on his promise of cooking. He had also kept Makoto out of the kitchen, insisting with red ears that he needed to sit down and rest and that this was something he wanted to do. Banished to the couch, Makoto had puffed up his cheeks in a defiant pout before playing with the remote to their television.

He had gotten a rundown of how it worked, and since the symbols on it were similar to the one at the hospital -- he had gotten it down pretty quickly! He couldn’t read any of the show names and instead flipped through until he landed on some type of a comedy show. Sitting back on the couch, at some point during the program he ended up laying on his side with his cheek pressed into the arm of the couch. It was a little strange, being so relaxed and casual at this place but -- he had to keep reminding himself that this was his home. And since this was his home, he could do these things.

Trying to keep up with the jokes, he didn’t realize he had fallen asleep until there was a voice calling his name.

Slowly opening his eyes, he stared forward a little confused and sleepy at the face before him. Sousuke was crouched down so he was sitting on the ground before him, and his hand was in Makoto’s hair. Carding through the soft locks, it felt very nice. He smiled softly at him and made a little noise as he nuzzled up into the hand subconsciously. Makoto heard Sousuke’s breathing stutter.

“Mm, Sousuke?” Makoto yawned slightly, reaching up and rubbing under his eyes.

“You fell asleep,” his hand pulled away from his hair, resting at his side in a tightly gripped fist. “I didn’t want to wake you up, but you have to eat.”

“It’s okay,” he smiled and sat up, Sousuke standing and holding out a hand for him. After helping him up, the two of them then walked to the kitchen. Sitting down, he looked over the meal he had made, Makoto beamed as he breathed in the air.

“It smells amazing! Looks good too,” he praised him, remembering his comments about how Makoto didn’t really have to eat it. Sousuke just grinned and rolled his eyes as they sat down to eat.

Turns out it tasted great too! They ate together and chatted, talking about all the things he had seen on his exploration of the apartment. (It turned out those leggings were called jammers and Sousuke had some too).

When the meal was finished and everything was cleaned up, Makoto got up to help him with the dished. Sousuke washed while he dried and there was a comfortable air around them. Makoto believed at the hospital that they have lived together, otherwise he wouldn’t have been here, but it wasn’t just seeing his things in these rooms that cemented the thoughts. It was the feeling he had when he was with Sousuke.

Comfortable feeling.

It was nice.

He was about to head back into the living room after they’d finished and put everything away, when Sousuke cleared his throat.

“Sit back at the table for a second,” he mumbled, looking a little bit nervous. Makoto had blinked slowly at him but done as he was told with a little confused smile.

“Why?” he asked.

“Just -- Give me a second. Wait there.”

Getting more confused by the second, he had simply sat there and waited. Sousuke moved to the refrigerator, glanced over his shoulders and frowned.

“Close your eyes. Don’t peek.”

“Okay, okay . . “ Makoto closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the fridge opening, a clinking of a plate and a fork followed by the click of something he couldn’t place. He heard Sousuke walk closer and something set on the table before him. He heard him sit down at the place across from him.

“Alright. Open your eyes . . “

Makoto nodded his head and slowly opened one eye. Then, gasping, he opened both.

Sitting before him was the best piece of chocolate cake he had ever seen. Or, the only one he had ever seen but . . The frosting, the chocolate shavings on top, the chocolate cream layered in the middle.

“What’s this?” he whispered. Sousuke looked alarmed.

“You -- You said you _remembered_ cake.”

“I know what it is,” he giggled just a little bit. “I’m asking what’s it doing here. Where’s yours?”

“I’m not a big . . Never mind, it’s for you,” Sousuke gestured before rubbing the back of his neck. He looked down then looked up shyly at Makoto. “Happy Birthday.”

His eyes widening even further, he looked back at the cake then at Sousuke.

“It’s my _birthday_?”

“Well -- _no._ Technically your birthday was last month but . . you didn’t really get to celebrate. So. Cake. For you. For your birthday.”

Makoto stared at him, looked at the cake once more before standing up. Sousuke jerked and stared at him, looking like he’d done something wrong, before suddenly Makoto was walking over to him. Arms thrown around his neck, he pulled Sousuke into a tight hug and pressed his cheek against his hair.

“Thank you,” he whispered softly. It may not have been his birthday, but for Sousuke to do this . . he didn’t understand why he cared so much, but it filled his heart with warmth. Sousuke swallowed and slowly wrapped his arms back around Makoto, and this time it was his face being pressed into the slightly shorter mans chest.

“ . . You’re welcome, Makoto.”


	6. Happy Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, but this chapter came out to around 7k so . . Uhm. I'm . . sorry. See you next time . . !

“Sousuke?” his voice called out from where he sat at the kitchen table. Pencil in hand, book in front of him, his face was scrunched up a little bit as he chewed on the eraser to try and figure out the problem at hand. The problem, being, the character he was trying to write.

He had already had one session with the therapist that would be helping him with his reading, and already he had homework. He wished he was a child because at least then he wouldn’t feel so silly for not being able to figure out what this character before him was. Sure, he had a reason and it wasn’t as if he was pulling his hair out but -- he knew this! He should know this. He knew this once.

“What’s up?” Sousuke answered back, walking into the kitchen and leaning over Makoto. His back touching his shoulder, Makoto looked up at him with a little pitiful pout.

“Help,” he complained, before sighing and rolling his head on his shoulders. Sousuke had promised him that anything he couldn’t understand, he would help him out. After all it wasn’t like Makoto could just . . look something up if he didn’t understand it.

“Yeah, alright,” There was a fond smile on Sousuke’s lips as he looked closer to understand what he was asking.

Makoto had noticed that fond smile time and time again, but Sousuke had been wearing it more often now that they were home alone together. When they had first met, Sousuke had looked terrible. He looked like he needed a drink of water, a warm lap to lay his head on and a very long nap. Bags under his eyes, redness inside them, his hair looked like it needed a good washing and a cut.

Now, he wasn’t sure when, but even his hair looked like it had gotten trimmed! The bags under his eyes stayed put, but he smiled. He smiled and ruffled Makoto’s hair, joked with him, sat close, cooked for him, and helped him with things he couldn’t understand. Held Makoto’s hand when he did his physical therapy homework and reassured him if he had a moment of self doubt.

When homework was finished, Makoto expected Sousuke to go to start dinner -- wondering if he’d let him help out this time.

“Grab your jacket,” was what he said instead as he snagged Makoto’s books away from him. Makoto made a feeble attempt to take them back.

“Why?” he asked, knowing where his jacket was because Sousuke had gone through those things with him. Like how to work the bath and shower as well.

“We’re going to eat out tonight,” Sousuke said, holding the books above Makoto’s head and though Makoto was almost as tall as he was, everytime he reached, he’d move them to the side. And he was not about to jump around after them!

“Oh?” That interested him, pulling his hand away from where he was playing keep away with Sousuke. “Really? What are we going to have?”

“We’ll probably just go to a diner, so don’t get too excited,” Sousuke rolled his eyes and smiled.

Smiling back, or beaming to be exactly, he had listened to him and hurried off to grab said jacket. When he came out and saw Sousuke wearing that fluffy black coat he loved so much it had been even better. They left their apartment, headed down the elevator and out into the street with common chatter between them. Sousuke complained about people in university, and Makoto told him about a family he had seen in the hospital.

Sousuke had been right, they did end up going to a diner. But it wasn't as if it was something Makoto wouldn’t be excited about! He doubted they could get into a restaurant right now anyway, seeing as Christmas wasn’t far off at all. It amazed him how he could remember simple things like how reservations work at the drop of a hat, but any real memories were still at an arms reach away from him.

Which hurt his chest because it was going on a month since he’d woken up.

He wanted to remember more things by now . .

Still, he wasn’t about to let that damper his spirits. Sitting with Sousuke after having given their orders, asking Sousuke to order for him because having to have him read out the whole menu would just be too tiring for him.

Sousuke sat back when their drinks arrived and took a small sip of his tea. His face scrunched up at how it was a bit too sweet for his liking and smacked his lips together. Makoto wasn’t sure how he knew that the reason Sousuke’s face went like that was because of the sweetness, but he smiled when Sousuke caught his eye.

“What?” Sousuke asked, realizing that Makoto had been staring. Blushing, Makoto smiled a little bit and played with the bottom of his cup.

“I’m just very happy right now,” he said fondly. “My life is a mess. I can’t remember anything. Christmas is in a few days and I have no gifts, but watching you drink tea that doesn’t taste good makes me laugh.”

Sousuke stared at him for a moment before looking away, his neck blushing as he mumbled something Makoto didn’t catch making him chuckle a bit and take a sip of his tea that was just perfect.

They ate dinner together, Sousuke paid and they left. It was a simple affair. Makoto also had money on him, Sousuke admitting that he didn’t feel comfortable if Makoto was out in public without any money to get home and Makoto understood the symbols on the coins and paper enough to feel confident carrying it.

Walking close to him, Makoto breathed in the calm and cool air of the night and looked up at the barely seen stars in the Tokyo sky. He glanced back over at Sousuke who was also staring up where they stopped to wait for the crosswalk to show they could cross safely.

He stared at him for a moment before a eye crinkling fond smile graced his features and caused him to lower his gaze down to the sidewalk.

“I love that coat,” he said softly as their arms brushed and he nudged Sousuke to inform him that the light had changed and they could cross now. A light noise left Sousuke’s throat as he seemed to be asking Makoto to go on.

“You know, after I woke up . . “ Makoto’s voice was soft in the silent night air, the nip of it turning his nose and ears pink. “One of the first things I noticed outside of Miko-san was that that coat was sitting on the back of a chair next to my bed. I thought it was mine.

Quiet for a moment, Makoto was alright with the silence -- having just felt the need to let him know.

“It is,” Sousuke mumbled softly, shoving his hands inside the pockets of the subject matter. Head jerking up, Makoto stared at him in surprise.

“ . . Eh?”

“It is,” he repeated once more, sniffing and looking off to the side. “Kind of. It’s mine now, but. You bought it for yourself and I wore it a couple times. You said it looked better on me and gave it to me.”

“ . . . “ Makoto stared for a moment, a little tinge of pink settling in the peaks of his cheeks that had nothing to do with the nippy air.

“You can have it back if you want,” Sousuke glanced back at him, though there was something about the way he said that that made it seem like he really did not want to be parted with the coat. And Makoto did not want to part him with it. He smiled a bit and shook his head, humming a little bit.

“No. It does look better on you.”

“You haven’t even tried it on yet -- “

“I know,” Makoto smiled, the same eye crinkling smile hitting his face and leaving Sousuke breathless. “But I just know. It’s _your_ coat, Sousuke. I’m not going to take it away.”

Sousuke’s face even turned a little pink this time, though Makoto figured it was the cold.

 

Getting home was as easy as getting there -- though since the moon was out by now, they could see the decorations that decorated apartment windows. Tasteful little things that stood out in the nighttime lighting, Makoto was fascinated. He asked Sousuke if they had any decorations at their home to put up in order to be festive, especially since Ren and Ran would be coming by the day after Christmas, and was so busy when they entered their apartment floor that he hadn’t noticed the man sitting outside their apartment. But Sousuke had, and stopped before Makoto heard the strangers words.

“Sousuke,” the man drawled out as he knocked on the door. “Come on, I _know_ you’re in there! You said you weren’t gonna do this now that Makoto was back!”

“Kisumi?” his deep voice rang out. Makoto took a few steps before pausing as well and glancing towards their apartment. Stop what . . ?

The light pink haired man stopped his knocking, looking over at them and the little frown that was on his face quickly changed into a bright smile.

“Makoto! Sousuke! **Makoto!** ” he exclaimed, running over to them. Makoto had expected him to stop, but he didn’t The man, who was either as tall as he was or somewhere close at least, barreled at him and threw his arms around him. A noise of surprise left Makoto, but it would have been rude to shove him away. He instead stood there with his arms out to his side as the man, Kisumi presumably, pressed his face to his chest with a happy noise.

Looking at Sousuke in confusion and maybe a touch of fear, Sousuke sucked his teeth and grabbed the collar of the leech, yanking him off.

“Get _off_ him,” he dropped his collar and frowned at him.

“Neee, Sousuke, that’s so mean,” Kisumi frowned a little bit, but just for a second before he was smiling. “Makoto loves my hugs! Don’t you, Makoto?”

“I told you, he doesn’t remember anything. Not even you, idiot.”

“Really?” Kisumi drawled out his word as he looked over at Makoto with a smile. Reaching out instead, he held out his hand and tilted his head on his shoulders with a brighter grin. “I guess I’ll introduce myself then! Shigino Kisumi, we went to school together!”

“A-Ah . . “ Still a little alarmed by what had happened before, Makoto tentatively took the hand and gave it a little shake. “It’s nice to see you, Shigino-san.”

A little twitch to his smile, the pink haired man shook his head. “That sounds so weird, nah. Kisumi, call me Kisumi, Makoto. We’re friends! Or we can be?” As if he had no doubt in that, he rocked on his heels with a pleasant look to his face, as if he was a little oblivious to Makoto’s wide eyed stare.

A smile didn’t leave Makoto’s face, despite the fact that he was a little confused by the refreshing whirlwind that was Kisumi. They invited him inside the apartment, or well -- Makoto did. Sousuke told him to leave and there was a warning look in his eyes that wasn’t missed by Makoto, but was ignored by Kisumi. Whatever was going on between the two of them wasn’t about to be explained, and if Sousuke wanted him to know he’d tell him.

Right?

Kisumi explained that he couldn’t stay long, a friend was watching his little brother who he promised to bring over sometime soon since he was itching to see Makoto as well. When Makoto asked about him, apparently Kisumi hadn’t gotten the memo that people were being vague about others and went straight into explaining him. He was ten years old, and a shy and introverted little boy who was slowly coming out of his shell with those he was close to Makoto. Makoto was surprised to hear that he was helping along a childs development and expressed that he would like to meet him sometime.

Makoto was sitting on the couch with them before Sousuke stood up to get some hot chocolate for them. Kisumi declared that he wanted to help and when Makoto said he would too, he has simply smilied and shook his head saying that he wanted Makoto to relax a bit and they’d just be a second.

Frowning, Makoto played with the ends of his sleeves. He didn’t enjoy being treated like -- some kind of invalid, after all. Breathing in he sat there for a few minutes twiddling and wearing stress marks in the knitted fabric before standing up. There was little noise past hushed voices coming from the kitchen, as well as the music drifting off the television from the program they had turned on when they sat down.

Walking to the door, Makoto stopped outside it and was about to step in when he heard.

“--And saying that kind of shit outside my door, what were you _thinking?_ He heard you,” came Sousuke’s hushed voice, causing Makoto to pause. He didn’t like eavesdropping either, but . . well, it was fair if they were hiding things from him, right?

“So what if he heard? Sousuke, he deserves to know. He would _want_ to know.”

“He doesn’t even know who he is!” Makoto’s eyes widened. “How would he know what he wants?”

“You shouldn’t talk about him like that. He knows what he wants, he doesn’t remember who he is -- that doesn’t make him an idiot!”

A deep sigh that was louder than their voices left Sousuke and Makoto heard a cup set against the counter.

“I know. _I know_ , but do you have any idea how frustrating this is?” Sousuke’s voice was tight and Makoto felt like he was intruding. “He doesn’t know who I am.”

“ . . He seems comfortable with you,” Kisumi’s voice had dropped down into a comforting whisper. “You have to take what you can get, I guess. You’re the one hiding it from him.”

“It’s not just me,” Sousuke defended. “I’m not the only one. His Mother won’t even let me tell him people’s names he hasn’t met yet, afraid of confusing him.”

“She’s just trying to protect her son, that’s all. Don’t demonize her.”

“I’m not! Stop putting words in my mouth!”

“Shh-- _shh!_ Do you want him to hear?” Kisumi’s voice was a little frantic and there was the loud noise of the fridge shutting. Quiet came from the two of them and when all they heard was the sound of the television, they must have thought Makoto didn’t notice.

“I’m not putting words in your mouth,” Kisumi started up again, there was a rustle of fabric. “I’m sorry, alright? That was crap of me to say. I just hate seeing you like this. I seriously thought you locked yourself up again and Makoto was at his parents or something.”

“We were at _dinner._ ”

“Yeah, well. How often in the last six months have you been at _dinner_? You were always either at the hospital, school, or sitting here in your own filth getting drunk! It’s not healthy, Sousuke. You can’t put your life on hold when -- “

“It’s fine!” there was the slam of hands on something hard. “It’s _fine_. He’s awake. He’s alive and he can talk, and that’s all I need.”

“ . . The chances of him remembering are sli--”

“I said him being alive is all I need,” Sousuke hissed. They didn’t seem to realize that a slam should have altered Makoto, because that had been loud.

“ . . You can’t live your entire life a lie, Sousuke,” Kisumi’s voice wavered a bit and Makoto'd bet if he could see him he’d see a knitted brow.

“ _Watch me_ ,” was all that was said before bare feet were being moved against the ground and Makoto didn’t have time to react. Taking a step backwards, he fell flat on his bum when Sousuke rounded the corner and stared at him in surprise, two cups of cocoa in his hands.

“Makoto--”

“Sorry! I heard a bang and didn’t know what happened, are you alright?” he stuttered out, looking away nervously even as Kisumi came out from behind Sousuke and lent down to help Makoto up. “I didn’t see you coming around the corner -- uhm! Uhm. T-Thank you!” Makoto grabbed the cocoa out of Sousuke’s hands and hurried back to the couch once he was up.

The other two followed and simply took a seat, not mentioning how obvious Makoto had been acting. In return Makoto didn’t mention how Sousuke’s eyes looked rimmed with red and how tight he gripped his cocoa cup.

When Sousuke drained his cup and excused himself to the bathroom, didn’t come back before Kisumi had to leave, Makoto didn’t mention that either. After Kisumi smiled a tight smile and said goodbye, walking out the door promising to be back soon, Makoto took a seat back on the couch and sipped the cold remnants of his hot cocoa and wondered what he was being lied to about.

* * *

There was no therapy on Christmas eve (or on Christmas day). Makoto wished there was because ever since the conversation when Kisumi was over the night before, things had been strained. Between Makoto hearing what he heard and Sousuke wondering what he heard, their conversations to one another had been kind but not like they were before. Short. Simple.

Makoto took to watching television and studying his simple books on his own during the first day. Sousuke had excused himself to the gym since there were no classes those two days either. He came home quickly though and stuck around for a couple hours.

A couple awkward hours.

Sitting on the couch next to Sousuke, Makoto glanced over at him and cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything for you for Christmas,” he had started awkwardly. “I know you’re meant to give a gift, but . . “

“You just came out of a coma, Makoto. It’s fine. I don’t have anything for you either.” Makoto wondered if that was a lie as he watched Sousuke’s face, before glancing back at the television.

The silence dragged on and Makoto picked at some fuzz on his pant leg.

“Sousuke . . “

“Mm.”

“About the other night, I--”

Before he could finish, Sousuke was standing. A surprised noise leaving him, Makoto stared with wide eyes before Sousuke glanced at him.

“Can we talk about this later? I have to run to -- go out. To the store,” he said, stepping away from the couch and heading towards the entry way. Makoto sat up quickly and turned on his knees so he was staring over the back of the couch.

“Eh? What? I’ll go with you -- “

“It’ll be faster if you don’t come. Stay here.”

“Sousuke I -- ”

“Stay here.”

He left Makoto’s view, and then the door was opened and shut. There on his knees, Makoto was left with his hands gripping the fabric of the couch. Wide eyes stares and watched the space he had last seen Sousuke before he leaned forward and pressed his face into the back of the couch, a deep breath being sucked through his lips.

“Damnit . . “

Sousuke had said it would be quicker without him, but when an hour passed and he didn’t come home, Makoto wondered if he would. He sat there, watched the tv and waited. When another hour passed and another, he wandered to the fridge to heat up something for dinner. He stared pathetically at the buttons on the microwave after pulling out something Sousuke had made the night before -- and wished the other man was here to help him.

With overcooked food in hand, he sat alone at the table and ate with a knitted brow.

It was wrong to have eavesdropped and he shouldn’t have done it. But wasn’t it worse to be lied to and kept in the dark about things that he should have known . . ?

He washed his dishes, dried them and put them away alone. The sky outside was dark and he greeted Christmas alone.

Makoto crawled into his bed and curled up in his comforters, pressing his face into the pillow as worry gnawed at his chest. He wasn’t sure how long he laid in bed, he wasn’t looking at the clock every minute to make sure when the symbols on it changed and he still couldn’t read it properly enough to understand what the real times meant.

Between when he last glanced at it and when he heard the front door open and shut once more, he knew they had changed a great deal. Sitting up in bed, gripping his blankets, he waited and listened. He knew it was Sousuke, but hearing him run into something and cuss after running into something, he knew for sure that it was him.

Laying back down, not angry just yet, he felt relieved that Sousuke was at least home.

When the door to the bedroom opened and Sousuke stumbled inside, he was more than a bit confused.

“Sousuke . . ?” he whispered, hearing clothing being stripped off his confusion grew as the bed dipped to the other man's weight. He could feel Sousuke crawling in, and felt the blankets move as he pulled them back and collapsed next to him.

“Sousuke, what are you doing?” he hissed out, face flushing as he tried to scoot away from him. An arm reached out and pulled him closer to his bare chest as his face flushed red. He reeked of alcohol and that answered where he had been. Kisumi’s words floated back to him. Hands coming up, he touched the arms that were holding him, trying to pull them away. “Sousuke, let me go.”

“Mm, Makoto . . “ was all that was mumbled out, the dark haired mans head coming down to nuzzle against his hair.

“Sousuke -- let me go. _Please_ . . ?” It might have been the tone of his voice, but the vice like grip that was surrounding him loosened. The room was dark, but Makoto’s room had a window. The moon’s light lit up the room slightly, just well enough that he could see his face. He looked pitiful. The way his face was scrunched up as he looked at Makoto like he’d driven something into his chest caused his own chest to tighten up.

“Sousuke . . “ he whispered, though there was no reason to. He felt like if he spoke too loud, he’d scare him.

“M'koto,” Sousuke tripped over his words as he tugged Makoto closer but didn’t hold him tightly like before. “So s'ryy . . ”

“Sousuke, you’re drunk. I’m going to sleep in your room,” Makoto flushed and started to move away from him. He wasn't going to answer questions like that when Sousuke could barely speak properly and his breath smelled like it could catch flame. He got as far as off the bed before a strong hand was gripping the back of his sleep shirt.

“‘m s’rry . . “ Sousuke slurred out, pressing his face into the mattress and holding onto Makoto’s shirt.

“ . . . “ Makoto reached behind him and carefully pulled his fingers away from the fabric of his shirt. He heard the pathetic sniffle as he stepped off the bed, and caught the start of the crying as he left the door and shut the door behind him for the living room.

 

The morning on Christmas came with Makoto waking up before Sousuke did. The only reason he knew that was because it was stark quiet, and though Sousuke wasn’t exactly a loud person he did make a bit of noise when he was moving around. No noise from the kitchen or bathroom, even Makoto’s bedroom was silent as he sat up from the couch.

Sleeping on a couch was not something he would reccomend, but since Sousuke had seemed uncomfortable with the thought of Makoto in his room he hadn’t gone there to sleep. Which was silly now that he realized it, and realized how his back ached, because Sousuke was sleeping in his room. He should have gone to his in return.

It may have been a holiday, but due to the rather uncheerful feeling in his chest he didn’t feel much. Besides, wasn’t Christmas really a day for families with children and lovers? His family wasn’t here and he had no lover, so in all actuality this day shouldn’t mean too much to him. And yet he rubbed his chest as there was a slight dull ache in there. The feeling like he was forgetting something, a silly feeling since he couldn’t remember anything anyway, was gnawing away at him along with Sousuke’s actions the past few days.

Makoto was not a vengeful man. He didn’t extract revenge or hold grudges very long, which was why he filled a tall glass of water in the kitchen and slowly padded down the hallway to where his bedroom laid. Opening the door, he caught sight of the shirtless Sousuke. There were clothes piled at the foot of the bed from when he stripped, and Makoto realized that he must only be wearing his underwear because a pair of black jeans laid there next to his shirt.

A bit of color rising on his cheeks, and thankful for the fact that Sousuke was at least laying in a way that the blankets were coiled around his hips, he walked over and set the glass down on the bedside table. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he watched him for a moment. His sleeping face was not peaceful. There was worry and frustration etched into his brow, even when he wasn’t awake to properly feel it. Reaching a hand out without even realizing it, he cupped Sousuke’s face and smoothed his finger over the bit of skin between his eyebrows. The second his hand touched his face, it started to relax. Smoothing his thumb down over the bridge of his nose, he moved it to rub under his eye, over the dark bags that laid there.

He wasn’t sure how he was feeling.

There was no doubt in his mind now that Sousuke was hiding something from him. And if it was this serious, that meant that everyone had been hiding something from him. He remembered little actions people had made when he first spoke about Sousuke that had thrown him off, and wondered what this secret was. Makoto wondered if it was their friendship, had they had some kind of falling out before -- was Sousuke really a friend or was he some type of enemy who mended their relationship and was now afraid of Makoto finding out and hating him for it? Ideas entered his head and since he didn’t know anything about himself to start with, he had no idea what was probably and what was just silly.

He knew that he was upset with him. He knew that they needed to talk and sort this out, and Sousuke couldn’t run away like that again.

“Sousuke,” he called out softly. Moving to pull his hand away, he paused when he felt Sousuke nuzzle up into his palm with a soft noise, eyes slowly opening. He didn’t look awake yet, sleepy teal eyes blinking before wincing and groaning, pressing the cheek that was against the pillow harder against the fluffy soft cotton.

“M’koto . . “ he grumbled. Makoto slipped his hand away and pressed it against the mattress.

“Good Morning. How’s your head?”

“Put a cat in a box then stick your head inside, ‘n that’ll be close . . “ came the reply as he groaned a little bit and carded a hand through the short strands of his hair. He stared at Makoto for a moment, closed his eyes, then opened them again with a knitted brow.

“. . Why am I in this bed?” he mumbled out. Makoto reached over to grab the water for him.

“You came home drunk and tried to sleep in here,” Makoto said softly, moving to hold the glass of water out for him to drink. Sousuke sat up weakly and took a feeble sip. “You’re not going to be sick are you?”

“I rarely vomit when I’m hungover,” Sousuke mumbled, speaking from experience before laying back down against the pillow. He looked concerned and ashamed. “You didn’t sleep here.” It wasn’t a question.

“I slept on the couch,” Makoto’s tone was light as he set the glass back down, reaching out once more to feel Sousuke’s warm forehead.

“ . . You could have slept in my bed. That couch isn’t comfortable to sleep on.” There was a tightness in his voice. Makoto wondered if he was holding back on saying he could have just stayed in here with him.

“I didn’t want to go in your room without your permission,” Makoto said softly, keeping his hand there as Sousuke closed his eyes and leaned into the touch -- awake this time. Makoto watched him for a moment before sighing, but not pulling his touch away. “Sousuke, we have to talk. About the other night -- “

“Later,” Sousuke pulled his face away. “Just -- later, okay?”

“ _No_ ,” Makoto’s voice was firm as he pulled his hand back and gripped the sheets. “No, we have to talk.”

“I know, I know. _Fuck_ , I know. Alright? I -- shouldn’t have left last night. I fucked up, alright? Just . . let me shower first. Okay?” Sousuke was sitting up and rubbing his hair, moving his hand down to knead the back of his neck with his arm sitting between his knees over the blankets. Makoto stared at him and glanced away.

“You’re not going to run off on me again, are you?”

Sousuke' flinched.

“ . . I’m sorry. You -- You didn’t deserve that. I just didn’t know what to do,” Sousuke’s voice turned into a soft whisper as he finished his sentence. Makoto watched him for a moment, glanced away and nodded his head. Sousuke moved off the bed and when he stood up and the blanket moved away from him, Makoto’s eyes were glued to his body. Before he refused to let himself look at someone like that, he stared off at the floor and stood up.

“Shower, alright? I’ll be in the other room,” he hoped his voice came off as kind as he wanted it to. He stopped as he stood up as well. “ . . Happy Christmas, Sousuke.” he said kindly, before he was walking out of the room, no noise coming from Sousuke.

His stomach growled softly as he rubbed it and explored the fridge. He could hear the bathroom running and wondered if Sousuke would take a bath or if he would just shower and get the conversation over with. Makoto just hoped he didn’t slip out the door while he wasn’t looking. He doubted that he would, but after last night . .

He had been hurt. Having the only person he could really count on avoid such an important conversation with him and then . . just leave.

Swallowing he dug through the fridge, looking for something to eat. When he couldn’t find anything he trusted himself to make, a frustrated noise left him. If he could only read, if he could only remember -- no, if he could remember food would be the least on his mind. He wouldn’t be having fights with his friend, Sousuke wouldn’t be hung over, his chest wouldn’t ache and . . well, he didn’t know what else would be happening. Because he couldn’t remember.

“What are you looking for?” came a murmur behind him and turning his head around he saw Sousuke standing there. Glass in hand, dressed in a loose pair of shorts and a tank top, Makoto’s eyes went for his arms before he tore his eyes away.

“Food . . Did you shower? That wasn’t even five minutes,” Makoto frowned a little bit as he watched Sousuke drain the rest of the water in his hand and walk over to the sink. He filled it up once more and leaned against the counter.

“No, I just . . washed my face. I’ll shower after, I . . it’s Christmas. I almost forgot, It’s your first Christmas and you’re starting it like this, I’m such a . . “ Sousuke gripped the glass tighter and glared at it like it had done him a personal wrong.

“This isn’t my first Christmas,” Makoto whispered, gripping the handle of the fridge for something to occupy his hands with.

“It’s the first one you can remember, and now this is always going to be in your memory,” Sousuke rubbed his forehead, and Makoto was sure he still had a headache. The darker haired male took another drink of his glass and set it down on the counter he was leaning against.

“Do you want to eat or talk, first?” he followed up when Makoto said nothing. Sousuke stared at him waiting for an answer and Makoto flexed his grip.

“Talk.” His voice was soft and his stomach was hungry, but he wasn’t sure if he could stomach a meal now that Sousuke was out here and actually willing to speak.

“Sit down,” Sousuke offered and pushed off the counter. Makoto expected him to stop at the table but he simply kept walking, into the living area and flopped down on the couch. His hand came to play with the drawstring to his shorts as Makoto took a seat, folding his legs under himself and looking as if he was smaller than the six foot tall man he really was. Which was how he felt. Small and anticipating what was to happen.

“ . . Alright,” It seemed like Sousuke was the only one doing the talking, but Makoto didn’t want to say something to upset him. “ . . You heard me and Kisumi.”

A deaf nod.

Sousuke swallowed and let go of the draw strings, rubbing his face and looking dead forward and not at Makoto.

“What did you hear?” he asked, voice attempting to sound casual but coming out tight and strained.

“More than I should have,” Makoto gazed down at his knees. Sousuke shifted on the couch. He breathed in through his nose to center himself before slowly glancing over at Sousuke. He looked tense. As if willpower alone was what was holding him in that spot, and it was taking everything he had not to jump up and bolt out the door. “ . . Sousuke?”

“Mm . . ?”

“Kisumi . . said that you were hiding something from me,” he stared and watched Sousuke’s jaw jump. “What are you hiding from me? I deserve to know.”

“. . I don’t want you to know.” There was an almost childish air about the way he spoke as he swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing.

“I don’t know if you have the right to decide that for me, Sousuke . . ” Makoto’s voice was a little less timid now as he stared at him. It was silent for a moment.

“Our relationship.” 

He had guessed that much. Makoto shifted on the couch and turned so he was facing him a little more than before. Sousuke didn’t move an inch and continued to stare forward with a tight jaw, breathing in through his nose.

“What about our relationship, Sousuke?” he prompted him on, all the ideas he had earlier floating back through his mind, wondering which one was right. “What is our relationship, Sousuke?”

Sousuke’s jaw jumped again as he looked back over at Makoto. When their eyes locked, he could see Sousuke’s were watering. His jaw was tight, his eyes lined with red that stood out hard against the bags under his eyes. He opened his mouth once, before shutting and looking away angrily. Makoto was starting to think he’d never get an answer out of him, when suddenly Sousuke was shifting on the couch and moving closer to him. Scooting down, he was sitting closer than before.

There was a touch of a hand to his cheek, and Makoto wondered why he was staring at Sousuke with wide eyes. Wide eyes that were taking in every inch of Sousuke’s expression. He looked like he was in pain with longing hidden behind those teal eyes.

The touch was pulling him in, and Makoto didn’t pull away.

Suddenly there was a press of lips against lips. A little gasp left Makoto as he realized that Sousuke was kissing him now. His dry lips were pressed against Makoto’s moist ones, and where teal eyes once stared at him was now replaced with eyelids as the other man closed his eyes. There was no movement to then kiss, just a gentle press of lips as something stirred in Makoto’s chest.

There was something familiar about this sensation as his own eyes slipped closed and he felt himself pressing back to him. Sousuke’s surprise was evident in the way his breathing was suddenly sucked in through his nose and he pressed back against Makoto. He did not attack him, and as soon as the kiss was returned in full by Sousuke -- he pulled back.

Makoto’s eyes snapped open as he stared at Sousuke.

He looked like he was in more pain than before he had leaned in and kissed him.

Makoto swallowed.

“ . . That’s our relationship,” Sousuke’s voice was deeper than before, and tighter.

“We -- kiss?” Makoto’s words were childish as was his tone and the confusion and longing for an answer in his eyes. A dry humorless laugh left Sousuke.

“ . . I love you,” he said instead of answering Makoto. Makoto realized that though he had pulled away from their kiss, his hand was still cupping his face. It was soft and gentle. He felt his heart skip as he stared at Sousuke with a stupid look.

In all his scenarios he had not expected that to be the answer. He had not expected a kiss, he had not expected Sousuke to confess his love for him on their couch with a hangover on Christmas day.

Sousuke being a spy was more probable than that.

He swallowed to wet his dry throat, eyes searching for something in Sousuke’s words that was familiar. Something in Sousuke’s eyes, his kiss and his touch that would bring the memories crashing back. Something story book, something fairy tale -- But like when he had desperately looked at his Mother’s face . . nothing happened.

“Sousuke,” there was pain in Makoto’s voice now. Sousuke’s face crumpled and his hand never left his face. He _wanted_ to love him. He wanted to love him because if Sousuke loved him, that probably meant that Makoto had loved him too? They weren't roommates, they were some kind of lovers . . ? Boyfriends? Was that what it was called? The way Sousuke looked at him felt like it was more than that little word could contain.

“I don’t lo--” He was cut off by the sudden angry look on Sousuke’s face as he ripped his hand away.

“ _Don’t._ ”

“Sou--”

“Don’t. Fuck, don’t you _dare_. I don’t _care_ , I don’t care if it’s true. I don’t give a shit if you never return my feelings, I don’t care if you never remember a single thing involving me. But don’t, Makoto, don’t you _dare_ tell me _you don’t love me_ ,” his voice was so tight it hurt Makoto’s throat. He stared at him helplessly, wishing he could say something to ease his pain. “I’d rather sit next to your bedside and watch your unopening eyes for _another_ six fucking months than hear you tell me you don’t love me.”

“ . . Sousuke,” he whispered, reaching out and placing his hand over Sousuke’s, that had ended up gripping the fabric of the couch tightly. He enclosed his large hand with his own broad one and squeezed. “Sousuke . . Why didn’t you -- Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I know you,” he spat out, swallowing hard and looking anywhere but at Makoto’s face. Makoto wondered if the glossiness behind his eyes would spill over soon. “And I know how this pans out. You find out we were -- together, and then you leave. Because you don’t want to hurt me, because you don’t feel the same way and you never will. You let me down easy, you’re not the man you use to be -- the man who fell in love with me. And then you pack up your things and you leave me.”

Makoto was silent.

“I’d rather sit here pretending to just be your friend than have you leave me,” His voice had been shaking before but now it was just quiet and broken. “I promised you, Makoto -- shit, you don’t even remember, but I fucking _promised_ you. I told you I’d never leave you alone. Friend, or -- anything else. I don’t want to leave you alone. I _won’t_.”

“. . .” Makoto squeezed his hand.Sousuke had been hiding this from him since he woke up. That was close to a month ago. A month of sitting next to him, pretending he didn’t love him . . Makoto couldn’t remember not loving someone, but he wasn’t sure if he could do that. The fact that it seemed as if everyone knew -- even Rin and Haru . . ? -- made his chest tighten. He had gotten everyone to lie to him because he didn’t want to leave Makoto alone . . ?

“ . . You should have trusted me,” Makoto whispered, hearing a small noise leave Sousuke’s throat. “You should have told me. I understand why you didn’t but -- Even though I . . I felt like there was something off, I felt comfortable with you. I wouldn’t have left you.”

“You would ha-- ”

“I wouldn’t!” Makoto’s voice was stronger now as he looked up at him, his own eyes glossy but he knew he wouldn’t cry this time. He saw the tears spill over Sousuke’s cheeks and since he woke up he knew he had to be the stronger one right now. “I wouldn’t have left you. You didn’t have to shoulder this alone, we could have figured it out together! I may not -- “

“Don’t, _please_ \--”

“I won’t. I'm sorry. I may not . . _feel_ that way now. But if you need me, I need you. Even if my memories never come back, I want to be around you. I just don’t -- want it to be painful on you,” there was a light trickle dripping down Sousuke’s cheeks as he stared at Makoto. He swallowed hard and Makoto squeezed his hand tighter.

“ . . I was prepared to never tell you,” Sousuke’s voice was so tight. “I don’t mind if it hurts.”

Makoto let go of his hand and wrapped his arms around him. He pulled Sousuke into his chest and pressed his face to his hair, just like they had that first night. He still smelled like booze and the scent made his empty stomach churn, but the way Sousuke’s hands came up to grip the back of Makoto’s shirt with shaking fingers and nuzzle into him like he had finally came home . .

That made it more bearable.

 


End file.
